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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/psychology01dewe 


PSYCHOLOGY 


« 


BY 

JOHN  DEWEY,  Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY  IX  MICHIGAN  UNIVERSITY 


tTbfrO  IRevlseD  JEOitton 


NEW  YORK 

HARPER  & BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 


1 894 


Copyright,  1S8C,  by  Harper  & Brothers. 
Copyright,  1891,  by  Harper  & Brothers. 


All  ri glits  reserved. 


PREFACE. 


Any  book,  written  as  this  one  is,  expressly  for  use 
in  class-room  instruction,  must  meet  one  question  with 
which  text-books  outside  the  realm  of  philosophy  are 
not  harassed.  What  shall  be  its  attitude  towards  phil- 
osophic principles?  This  is  a question  which  may  be 
suppressed,  but  cannot  be  avoided.  The  older  works, 
indeed,  were  not  so  much  troubled  by  it,  for  it  is  only 
recently  that  psychology  has  attained  any  independent 
standing.  As  long  as  psychology  was  largely  a com- 
pound of  logic,  ethics,  and  metaphysics,  the  only  thing 
possible  was  to  serve  this  compound,  mingled  with  ex- 
tracts from  the  history  of  philosophy.  And  it  must 
not  be  forgotten  that  such  a course  had  one  decided 
advantage  : it  made  psychology  a good  introduction  to 
the  remaining  studies  of  the  philosophic  curriculum. 
But  at  present,  aside  from  the  fact  that  there  is  already 
an  abundance  of  text-books  of  this  style,  which  it  were 
idle  to  increase,  psychology  seems  deserving  of  a treat- 
ment on  its  own  account. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  are  books  which  attempt 
to  leave  behind  all  purely  philosophic  considerations, 
and  confine  themselves  to  the  facts  of  scientific  psy- 
chology. Such  books  certainly  have  the  advantage  of 


IV 


PREFACE. 


abandoning — or,  at  least,  of  the  opportunity  of  aban- 
doning— a mass  of  material  which  has  no  part  nor  lot 
in  psychology,  and  which  should  long  ago  have  been 
relegated  to  the  history  of  metaphysics.  But  one  can 
hardly  avoid  raising  the  question  whether  such  surren- 
der of  philosophic  principles  be  possible.  No  writer 
can  create  nor  recreate  his  material,  and  it  is  quite  like- 
ly that  the  philosophic  implications  embedded  in  the 
very  heart  of  psychology  are  not  got  rid  of  when  they 
are  kept  out  of  sight.  Some  opinion  regarding  the 
nature  of  the  mind  and  its  relations  to  reality  will 
show  itself  on  almost  every  page,  and  the  fact  that  this 
opinion  is  introduced  without  the  conscious  intention 
of  the  writer  may  serve  to  confuse  both  the  author  and 
his  reader. 

But  to  me  one  other  consideration  seems  decisive 
against  such  a course.  It  does  not  have  due  reference 
to  the  historic  conditions  of  our  instruction.  One  es- 
sential element  in  the  situation  is  that  it  is  the  custom 
of  our  colleges  to  make  psychology  the  path  by  which 
to  enter  the  fields  of  philosophy. 

How,  then,  shall  we  unite  the  advantages  of  each 
class  of  text-books?  That  is  to  say,  how  shall  we 
make  our  psychology  scientific  and  up  to  the  times, 
free  from  metaphysics — which,  however  good  in  its 
place,  is  out  of  place  in  a psychology — and  at  the  same 
time  make  it  an  introduction  to  philosophy  in  general? 
While  I cannot  hope  to  have  succeeded  in  presenting 
a psychology  which  shall  satisfactorily  answer  this 
question,  it  does  appear  to  me  an  advantage  to  have 


PREFACE. 


V 


kept  this  question  in  mind,  and  to  have  written  with 
reference  to  it.  I have  accordingly  endeavored  to 
avoid  all  material  not  strictly  psychological,  and  to  re- 
flect the  investigations  of  scientific  specialists  in  this 
branch  ; but  I have  also  endeavored  to  arrange  the  ma- 
terial in  such  a way  as  to  lead  naturally  and  easily  to 
the  problems  which  the  student  wrill  meet  in  his  fur- 
ther studies,  to  suggest  the  principles  along  which  they 
will  find  their  solutions,  and,  above  all,  to  develop  the 
philosophic  spirit.  I am  sure  that  there  is  a way  of 
raising  questions,  and  of  looking  at  them,  which  is 
philosophic ; a way  which  the  beginner  can  find  more 
easily  in  psychology  than  elsewhere,  and  which,  when 
found,  is  the  best  possible  introduction  to  all  specific 
philosophic  questions.  The  following  pages  are  the 
author’s  attempt  to  help  the  student  upon  this  way. 


NOfE  TO  TIIE  THIRD  EDITION. 


Many  of  the  changes  in  this  edition  are  in  statement 
of  particular  facts  where  the  science  has  advanced  since 
the  book  was  first  written.  In  making  them  I have 
availed  myself  largely  of  the  learning  and  aid  of  my 
friend  and  former  colleague,  Mr.  J.  H.  Tufts,  to  whom 
are  given  my  best  thanks.  Changes,  tending  to  greater 
clearness  or  simplicity  of  statement,  and  amounting  to 
a paragraph  or  more,  will  be  found  on  pages  7-8,  27, 
33-36,  44-50,  55,  56-58,  66,  81-S2,  S9,  93-96,  152- 
158  (except  the  references),  205,  218,  276,  278,  311, 
312,  315.  The  only  change  involving  an  alteration 
of  standpoint  is  in  the  general  treatment  of  sensation. 
For  the  better  theory,  as  it  now  seems  to  me,  of  the 
present  edition  I am  indebted  to  the  writings,  on  one 
side,  of  Mr.  James  "Ward  and  Professor  James,  and,  on 
the  other,  of  Professor  Watson.  Finally,  my  hearty 
thanks  are  due  to  the  teachers  whose  patience,  energy, 
and  learning  have  done  so  much  to  cover  the  deficien- 
cies of  this  book  and  to  make  acceptable  whatever  of 
merit  it  has. 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

CHAPTER  I. 

Science  and  Method  of  Psychology 1-14 

§ 1.  Subject-matter  of  Psychology 1 

§ 2.  Method  of  Psychology 6 

1.  Introspective 6 

2.  Experimental 9 

3.  Comparative 10 

4.  Objective 11 

CHAPTER  II. 

Mind  and  Modes  of  Activity 15-26 

1.  Aspects  of  Consciousness 15 

2.  Relations  to  Each  Other 17 

3.  Relations  to  the  Whole  Self 21 


PART  I.— KNOWLEDGE. 

CHAPTER  III. 

Elements  of  Knowledge  . . 27-80 

§ 1.  Sensation  in  General  (introductory) 27 

I.  Physical  Stimulus 28 

II.  Psychical  Factor 33 

III.  Relations  of  Psychical  and  Physiological  37 

IV.  Functions  of  Sensation  in  Psychical  Life  . 44 

§ 2.  Special  Senses  (introductory) 46 

Relations  to  Touch 47 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


viii 

§ 3.  Touch 50 

Weber’s  Law  and  Psycho-physical  Methods  . 52 

Muscular  Sensation 56 

§ 4.  Smell 59 

§ 5.  Taste Cl 

§ 6.  Hearing G3 

§ 7.  Sight 68 

§ 8.  Temperature 74 

§ 9.  General  Sensation 75 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Processes  of  Knowledge 81-155 

§ 1.  Nature  of  Problem 81 

Sensations  and  Known  Objects 81 

The  Knowing  Self 84 

§ 2.  Apperception 85 

A.  Problem  of  Apperception 85 

B.  Kinds  of  Apperception 89 

§ 3.  Association 90 

A.  Conditions  (positive  and  negative)  ...  90 

B.  Forms 92 

I.  Simultaneous  or  Fusion 93 

II.  Successive  by  Contiguity  ....  98 

By  Similarity 103 

C.  Function  of  Association Ill 

Mechanical  and  Automatic  Activities  . 113 

§ 4.  Dissociation 117 

I.  Relation  to  Association 117 

II.  Conditions 120 

III.  Functions  in  Psychical  Life 129 

§ 5.  Attention 132 

Definition 133 

I.  Attention  as  Selecting  Activity  ....  133 

II.  Attention  as  Adjusting  Activity  ....  138 

III.  Attention  as  Relating  Activity  ....  143 

§ 6.  Retention 148 

Results 151 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


CHAPTER  V. 
Stages  op  Knowledge. — Perception  . 

§ 1.  Knowledge  as  Self-Development 
§ 2.  Perception 

I.  Of  Objects 

II.  Of  Space 

III.  Of  Externality  in  General 


CHAPTER  VI. 
Memory 

1.  Definition  and  Problem  .... 

2.  The  Memory  Image 

3.  Memory  of  Time 

4.  Self  as  Past  and  Present  . . . . 


156-175 

156 

158 

161 

162 

172 


176-191 

176 

181 

183 

189 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Imagination 192-201 

1.  Definition 192 

2.  Ideals  in  Imagination 196 

3.  Practical  and  Theoretical 200 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Thinking 202-234 

§ 1.  Definition  and  Division 202 

§ 2.  Conception 204 

Growth  of  Knowledge 210 

§ 3.  Judgment 213 

Belief 218 

§ 4.  Reasoning 220 

A prion  and  a posteriori 223 

Inductive  and  Deductive 224 

§ 5.  Systematization 231 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Intuition 235-245 

1.  Intuition  of  the  World 238 

2.  Intuition  of  Self 242 

3.  Intuition  of  God 244 


X 


CONTEXTS. 


PART  II.— FEELING. 

CHAPTER  X. 

PAGE 

Introduction  to  Feeling 246-249 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Sensuous  Feeling 250-261 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Formal  Feeling 262-274 

1.  Feelings  of  Present  Adjustment 264 

2.  Feelings  Due  to  Past  Experiences 267 

3.  Feeling  Directed  Towards  tlie  Future 273 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Development  of  Qualitative  Feeling 275-295 

1.  Development  in  Universality 278 

2.  Development  in  Definiteness 285 

3.  Abnormal  Feelings 289 

4.  Conflict  of  Feelings 290 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Intellectual  Feelings 296-308 

1.  General  Nature 296 

2.  Its  Spring  to  Intellectual  Action 303 

3.  Its  Objective  Side 306 

CHAPTER  XV. 

JEsthetic  Feeling 309-325 

1.  General  Nature 309 

Connection  with  Idealization 310 

Universality  of  Beauty 313 

Factors  of  ^Esthetic  Feeling. — Harmony  . . 315 

2.  As  a Spring  to  Action 317 

The  Fine  Arts 317 

3.  The  ^Esthetic  Judgment. — Taste 322 


CONTEXTS. 


XI 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

PAGE 

Personal  Feeling 326-346 

1.  General  Nature 326 

Social  Feelings 328 

Moral  Feelings 335 

Religious  Feelings 337 

2.  As  Spring  to  Action 340 

Social  Institutions 341 

3.  The  Personal  Judgment. — Conscience 344 


PAET  III.— THE  WILL. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Sensuous  Impulses 347-358 

Reflex  Action 349 

Impulses  of  Perception 351 

Instinctive  Impulses 353 

Instincts  of  Expression 354 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

Development  of  Volition 359-373 

1.  Desire 360 

2.  Choice 365 

Motive 366 

3.  Realization  of  Motive 368 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

Physical  Control 374-386 

1.  Localization  of  Motor  Impulses 376 

2.  Combination  of  Motor  Impulses 380 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Prudential  Control 387-398  — 

1.  Development  of  Desire 388 

2.  Choice  of  End  and  Means 391 


CONTENTS. 


xii 

PAOB 

3.  Forms  of  Prudential  Control 394 

Practical 394 

Intellectual 39G 

Emotional 39G 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Moral  Control  

1.  Development  of  Ethical  Desires  . 

2.  Ethical  Choice 

3.  Result  of  Moral  Action  .... 

Generic  Volition 

Regulation  of  Desires  . . . 

Accurate  and  Intuitive  Choice 
Effective  Execution  . . . 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

Will  as  the  Source  of  Ideals  and  of  their  Real- 


ization   417-424 

Appendix  A 425 

Appendix  B . 426 


399-416 


411 

412 

413 

413 

414 


PSYCHOLOGY 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  SCIENCE  AND  METHOD  OF  PSYCHOLOGY. 

§ 1.  The  Subject-matter  of  Psychology. 

Definition  of  Psychology : Psychology  is  the  Science 
of  the  Facts  or  Phenomena  of  Self. — This  definition 
cannot  be  expected  to  give,  at  the  outset,  a clear  and 
complete  notion  of  what  the  science  deals  with,  for  the 
reason  that  it  is  the  business  of  psychology  to  clear  up 
and  develop  what  is  meant  by  facts  of  self.  Other 
words,  however,  may  be  used  to  bring  out  the  mean- 
ing somewhat.  Ego  is  a term  used  to  express  the  fact 
that  self  has  the  power  of  recognizing  itself  as  I,  or 
a separate  existence  or  personality.  Mind  is  also  a 
term  used,  and  suggests  especially  the  fact  that  self  is 
intelligent.  Soul  is  a term  which  calls  to  mind  the  dis- 
tinction of  the  self  from  the  body,  and  yet  its  connec- 
tion with  it.  Psychical  is  an  adjective  used  to  designate 
the  facts  of  self,  and  suggests  the  contrast  with  physi- 
cal phenomena,  namel}7,  facts  of  nature.  Subject  is  often 
used,  and  expresses  the  fact  that  the  self  lies  under  and 
holds  together  all  feelings,  purposes,  and  ideas ; and 
serves  to  differentiate  the  self  from  the  object— that 
1 


2 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


which  lies  over  against  self.  Spirit  is  a term  used,  es- 
pecially in  connection  with  thefETgher  activities  of  self, 
and  calls  to  mind  its  distinction  from  matter  and  me- 
chanical modes  of  action. 

Fundamental  Characteristic  of  Self. — This  is  the 
fact  of  consciousness.  The  self  not  only  exists,  but  may 
know  that  it  exists;  psychical  phenomena  are  not  only 
facts,  but  they  are  facts  of  consciousness.  A stick,  a 
stone,  exists  and  undergoes  changes;  that  is,  has  expe- 
riences. But  it  is  aware  neither  of  its  existence  nor 
of  these  changes.  It  does  not,  in  short,  exist  for  itself . 
It  exists  only  for  some  consciousness.  Consequently 
the  stone  has  no  self.  But  the  soul  not  only  is,  and 
changes,  but  it  knows  that  it  is,  and  what  these  experi- 
ences are  which  it  passes  through.  It  exists  for  itself. 
That  is  to  say,  it  is  a self.  What  distinguishes  the 
facts  of  psychology  from  the  facts  of  every  other  sci- 
ence is,  accordingly,  that  they  are  conscious  facts. 

Consciousness. — Consciousness  can  neither  be  defined 
nor  described.  We  can  define  or  describe  anything 
only  by  the  employment  of  consciousness.  It  is  pre- 
supposed, accordingly,  in  all  definition ; and  all  at- 
tempts to  define  it  must  move  in  a circle.  It  cannot 
be  defined  by  discriminating  it  from  the  unconscious, 
for  this  either  is  not  known  at  all,  or  else  is  known 
only  as  it  exists  for  consciousness.  Consciousness  is 
necessary  for  the  definition  of  what  in  itself  is  uncon- 
scious. Psychology,  accordingly,  can  study  only  the 
various  forms  of  consciousness,  showing  the  conditions 
under  which  they  arise. 

The  Self  as  Individual. — We  have  seen  that  the  pe- 
culiar characteristic  of  the  facts  of  self  is  that  they  are 
conscious,  or  exist  for  themselves.  This  implies  further 


SCIENCE  AND  METHOD. 


3 


that  the  self  is  individual,  and  all  the  facts  of  self  refer 
to  the  individual.  They  are  unique  in  this.  A fact  of 
physics,  or  of  chemistry,  for  the  very  reason  that  it 
does  not  exist  for  itself,  exists  for  anybody  or  every- 
body who  wishes  to  observe  it.  It  is  a fact  which  can 
be  known  as  directly  and  immediately  by  one  as  by 
another.  It  is  universal , in  short.  How,  a fact  of  psy- 
chology does  not  thus  lie  open  to  the  observation  of  all. 
It  is  directly  and  immediately  known  only  to  the  self 
which  experiences  it.  It  is  a fact  of  my  or  your  con- 
sciousness, and  only  of  mine  or  yours. 

Communication  of  an  Individual  State. — It  may  be 
communicated  to  others,  but  the  first  step  in  this  com- 
munication is  changing  it  from  a psychical  fact  to  a 
physical  fact.  It  must  be  expressed  through  non-con- 
scious  media — the  appearance  of  the  face,  or  the  use  of 
sounds.  These  are  purely  external.  They  are  no  long- 
er individual  facts.  The  next  step  in  the  communica- 
tion is  for  some  other  individual  to  translate  this  ex- 
pression, or  these  sounds, into  his  own  consciousness.  He 
must  make  them  part  of  himself  before  he  knows  what 
they  are.  One  individual  never  knows  directly  what 
is  in  the  self  of  another ; he  knows  it  only  so  far  as  he 
is  able  to  reproduce  it  in  his  own  self.  The  fact  of  the 
existence  of  self  or  of  consciousness  is,  accordingly,  a 
unique  individual  fact.  Psychology  deals  with  the  in- 
dividual, or  self,  while  all  other  sciences,  as  mathemat- 
ics, chemistry,  biology,  etc.,  deal  with  facts  which  are 
universal,  and  are  not  facts  of  self,  but  facts  presented 
to  the  selves  or  minds  which  know  them. 

Relation  of  Psychology  to  Other  Sciences. — Psychology 
holds,  therefore,  a twofold  relation  to  all  other  sciences. 
On  the  one  hand,  it  is  co-ordinated  with  other  sciences, 


4: 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


as  simply  having  a different  and  higher  subject-matter 
than  they.  The  student  may  begin  with  bodies  most 
remote  from  himself,  in  the  science  of  astronomy.  lie 
may  then  study  the  globe  upon  which  he  lives,  in  ge- 
ography, geology,  etc.  He  may  then  study  the  living 
beings  upon  it,  botany,  zoology,  etc.  Finally  he  may 
come  to  his  own  body,  and  study  human  physiology. 
Leaving  his  body,  he  may  then  study  his  own  self. 
Such  a study  is  psychology.  Thus  considered,  psychol- 
ogy is  evidently  simply  one  science  among  others. 

Psychology  a Central  Science. — But  this  overlooks 
one  aspect  of  the  case.  All  the  other  sciences  deal 
only  with  facts  or  events  which  are  known  ; but  the 
fact  of  knowledge  thus  involved  in  all  of  them  no  one 
of  them  has  said  anything  about.  It  has  treated  the 
facts  simply  as  existent  facts,  while  they  are  also  known 
facts.  But  knowledge  implies  reference  to  the  self  or 
mind.  Knowing  is  an  intellectual  process,  involving 
psychical  laws.  It  is  an  activity  which  the  self  experi- 
ences. A certain  individual  activity  has  been  accord- 
ingly presupposed  in  all  the  universal  facts  of  physical 
science.  These  facts  are  all  facts  known  by  some 
mind,  and  hence  fall,  in  some  way,  within  the  sphere  of 
psychology.  This  science  is  accordingly  something 
more  than  one  science  by  the  side  of  others ; it  is  a 
central  science,  for  its  subject-matter , knowledge,  is  in- 
volved in  them  all. 

The  Universal  Factor  in  Psychology. — It  will  be  seen, 
therefore,  that  psychology  involves  a universal  element 
within  it,  as  well  as  the  individual  factor  previously 
mentioned.  Its  subject-matter,  or  its  content , is  in- 
volved in  all  the  sciences.  Furthermore,  it  is  open  to 
all  intelligences.  This  may  be  illustrated  in  case  of 


SCIENCE  AND  METHOD. 


5 


both  knowledge  and  volition.  For  example:  I know 
that  there  exists  a table  before  me.  This  is  a fact  of 
my  knowledge,  of  my  consciousness,  and  hence  is  indi- 
vidual. But  it  is  also  a possible  fact  for  all  intelli- 
gences whatever.  The  thing  known  is  just  as  requisite 
for  knowledge  as  the  knowing;  but  the  thing  known  is 
such  for  all  mind  whatever.  It  is,  therefore,  universal 
in  its  nature.  While  knowledge,  therefore,  as  to  its 
knower  is  individual,  as  to  the  known  it  is  universal. 
Knowledge  may  be  defined  as  the  process  by  which 
some  universal  element — that  is,  element  which  is  in 
possible  relation  to  all  intelligences — is  given  individual 
form,  or  existence  in  a consciousness.  Knowledge  is 
not  an  individual  possession.  Any  consciousness  which 
in  both  form  and  content  is  individual,  or  peculiar  to 
some  one  individual,  is  not  knowledge.  To  obtain 
knowledge,  the  individual  must  get  rid  of  the  features 
which  are  peculiar  to  him,  and  conform  to  the  condi- 
tions of  universal  intelligence.  The  realization  of  this 
process,  however,  must  occur  in  an  individual. 

Illustration  in  Action. — Volition,  or  action,  also  has 
these  two  sides.  The  content  of  every  act  that  I can 
perform  already  exists , i.  e.,  is  universal.  But  it  has 
no  existence  for  consciousness,  does  not  come  within 
the  range  of  psychology,  until  1,  or  some  self,  perform 
the  act,  and  thus  give  it  an  individual  existence.  It 
makes  no  difference  whether  the  act  be  to  write  a sen- 
tence or  tell  the  truth.  In  one  case  the  pen,  the  ink, 
the  paper,  the  hand  with  its  muscles,  and  the  laws  of 
physical  action  which  control  writing  already  exist,  and 
all  I can  do  is  to  give  to  these  separate  universal  ex- 
istences an  individual  existence  by  reproducing  them 
in  my  consciousness  through  an  act  of  my  own.  In 


6 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  other  case  the  essence  of  the  truth  already  exists, 
and  all  the  self  can  do  is  to  make  it  its  own.  It  can 
give  it  individual  form  by  reproducing  this  universal 
existence  in  consciousness  or  self. 

Further  Definition  of  Psychology. — Our  original  defi- 
nition of  psychology  may  now  be  expanded.  Psychol- 
ogy is  the  science  of  the  reproduction  of  some  univer- 
sal content  or  existence,  whether  of  knowledge  or  of 
action,  in  the  form  of  individual,  unsharable  con- 
sciousness. This  individual  consciousness,  considered 
by  itself,  without  relation  to  its  content,  always  exists 
in  the  form  of  feeling  j and  hence  it  may  be  said  that 
the  reproduction  always  occurs  in  the  medium  of  feel- 
ing. Our  study  of  the  self  will,  therefore,  fall  under 
the  three  heads  of  Knowledge,  Will,  and  Feeling. 
Something  more  about  the  nature  of  each  of  these  and 
their  relations  to  each  other  will  be  given  in  the  next 
chapter. 

§ 2.  Method  of  Psychology. 

Need  of  Method. — The  subject-matter  of  psychology 
is  the  facts  of  self,  or  the  phenomena  of  consciousness. 
These  facts,  however,  do  not  constitute  science  until 
they  have  been  systematically  collected  and  ordered 
with  reference  to  principles,  so  that  they  may  be  com- 
prehended in  their  relations  to  each  other,  that  is  to  say, 
explained.  The  proper  way  of  getting  at,  classifying, 
and  explaining  the  facts  introduces  us  to  the  consider- 
ation of  the  proper  method  of  psychology. 

Method  of  Introspection. — In  the  first  place,  it  is  evi- 
dent that,  since  the  facts  with  which  psychology  has 
to  do  are  those  of  consciousness,  the  study  of  conscious- 
ness itself  must  be  the  main  source  of  knowledge  of 


SCIENCE  AND  METHOD. 


7 


the  facts.  Just  as  the  facts  with  which  the  physical 
sciences  begin  are  those  phenomena  which  are  present 
to  the  senses  — falling  bodies,  lightning,  rocks,  acids, 
trees,  etc.  — so  psychical  science  must  begin  with  the 
facts  made  known  in  consciousness.  The  study  of  con- 
scious facts  with  a view  to  ascertaining  their  character 
is  called  introspection.  This  must  not  be  considered  a 
special  power  of  the  mind.  It  is  only  the  general 
power  of  knowing  which  the  mind  has,  directed  re- 
flectively and  intentionally  upon  a certain  set  of  facts. 
It  is  also  called  internal  perception  ; the  observation 
of  the  nature  and  course  of  ideas  as  they  come  and 
go,  corresponding  to  external  perception,  or  the  obser- 
vation of  facts  and  events  before  the  senses.  This 
method  of  observation  of  facts  of  consciousness  must 
ultimately  be  the  sole  source  of  the  material  of  psy- 
chology. 

Difficulties  of  Introspection.  — Some  psychologists 
have  gone  still  further  and  claimed  that  internal  ob- 
servation has  a great  advantage  over  external.  It  is 
said  that  while  in  examination  of  objects  the  mind 
may  always  be  mistaken,  in  its  introspection  of  itself 
it  must  always  be  correct,  since  the  observer  and  ob- 
served are  one.  A man  may  be  mistaken,  for  example, 
in  holding  that  some  substance  is  gold,  it  may  be  iron 
pyrites;  but  if  he  feels  angry  there  is  no  danger  of  his 
mistaking  anger  for  love.  In  reply  to  this,  it  may  be 
stated,  first,  that  the  fact  is  not  as  thus  reported. 
However  it  may  be  in  anger,  there  are  certainly  many 
mixed  and  subtle  emotional  states,  states  of  half-fear 
and  half-hope,  for  example,  which  it  is  as  difficult  to 
identify  as  it  is  to  identify  a rare  species  of  bird-life. 
Even  as  to  anger,  persons  are  not  unknown  who,  the 


8 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


angrier  they  get,  the  more  earnestly  they  assert  them- 
selves to  be  perfectly  calm. 

The  experience  is  one  thing;  making  that  experience 
the  object  of  reflection  to  find  out  what  it  is,  is  quite 
another.  Psychological  introspection  is  the  latter  act. 
A man  unwonted  to  examining  his  experiences  would 
have  as  much  difficulty  in  correctly  describing  his  own 
states  of  mind  as  would  a layman  in  the  accurate  de- 
scription of  new  chemical  substances  shown  him. 

Introspection  a Scientific  Process.  — Correctly  to 
perceive  a fact,  in  other  words,  is  a work  of  analysis. 
To  feel  angry  is  one  thing;  to  give  a critical  analysis 
of  that  feeling  is  quite  another.  They  are  so  far  from 
identity  that,  in  this  case,  they  are  quite  incompatible. 
When  introspective  analysis  begins,  the  anger  ceases. 
It  is  well  understood  that  external  observation  is  not  a 
passive  process — that  it  demands  active  attention  and 
critical  thought,  and  that  its  correctness  will  depend 
largely  upon  the  ideas  with  which  the  object  is  ap- 
proached. Plenty  of  objects  are  perceived  wrongly 
every  day  because  they  are  approached  in  the  light  of 
a wrong  theory.  To  perceive  with  no  ideas  in  the 
mind  to  which  to  relate  the  object  is  an  impossibility. 
It  is  not  otherwise  with  psychological  observation.  It  is 
only  recently  that  the  great  variety  in  the  distinctness 
of  mental  images  has  been  observed , although  it  must 
have  been  experienced  millions  of  times.  But  the  the- 
ory had  been  formed  that  all  images  are  definite,  and 
the  theory  rode  rough-shod  over  the  fact.  To  observe 
truly  a mental  fact  demands  a true  hypothesis  in  the 
mind  and  proper  material  with  which  to  correlate  it. 
It  is  an  act  at  once  of  analysis  and  of  classification. 

Wc  shall  see  hereafter  that  there  is  no  such  thing 


SCIENCE  AND  METHOD. 


9 


as  pure  observation  in  tlie  sense  of  a fact  being  known 
without  assimilation  and  interpretation  through  ideas 
already  in  the  mind.  This  is  as  true  of  the  observation 
of  the  facts  of  consciousness  as  of  perceiving  physical 
facts. 

Experimental. — Amid  these  difficulties  we  can  have 
recourse,  first,  to  the  experimental  method.  "We  can- 
not experiment  directly  with  facts  of  consciousness,  for 
the  conditions  of  experimentation — arbitrary  variation 
for  the  sake  of  reaching  some  end,  or  eliminating  some 
factor,  or  introducing  some  other  to  test  its  effects, 
together  with  the  possibility  of  measuring  the  causq 
eliminated  or  introduced  and  the  result  occasioned — 
are  not  possible.  But  we  can  experiment,  indirectly, 
through  the  connection  of  the  soul  with  the  bod}r.  The 
physical  connections  of  the  soul — that  is,  its  relation  to 
sense-organs  and  to  the  muscular  system — are  under  our 
control,  and  can  be  experimented  with,  and  thus,  indi- 
rectly, changes  may  be  introduced  into  consciousness. 
The  method  has  two  branches.  One,  psychophysics , 
deals  with  the  quantitative  relations  between  psychical 
states  and  their  bodily  stimuli,  while  the  other,  physio- 
logical psychology,  uses  physiological  processes  for  the 
sake  of  investigating  psychical  states. 

Object  of  Physiological  Psychology. — Its  object,  as 
stated  by  Wundt,  is  to  enable  us  to  get  results  con- 
cerning the  origin,  composition,  and  temporal  succes- 
sion of  psychical  occurrences.  Although  this  method 
has  been  employed  but  a short  time,  it  has  already 
yielded  ample  results  in  the  spheres,  especially,  of  the 
composition  and  relations  of  sensations,  the  nature 
of  attention,  and  the  time  occupied  by  various  mental 
processes.  It  will  be  noticed,  therefore,  that  nerve  and 
1* 


10 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


cerebral  physiology  cannot  of  themselves  aid  psychol- 
ogy directly;  the  mere  knowledge  of  all  the  functions 
of  the  brain  and  nerves  does  not  help  the  science,  ex- 
cept so  far  as  it  occasions  a more  penetrating  psycho- 
logical analysis,  and  thus  supplements  the  deficiencies 
of  introspection. 

Comparative  Method. — Even  such  results,  however, 
are  not  complete.  In  the  first  place,  the  range  of  the 
application  of  this  method  is  limited  to  those  psychical 
events  which  have  such  connection  with  physical  pro- 
cesses that  they  can  he  changed  by  changing  the  latter. 
And,  in  the  second  place,  it  does  not  enable  us  to  get  be- 
yond the  individual  mind.  There  may  he  much  in  any 
one  individual’s  consciousness  which  is  more  or  less 
peculiar  and  eccentric.  Psychology  must  concern  it- 
self rather  with  the  normal  mind — with  consciousness 
in  its  universal  nature.  Again,  the  methods  already 
mentioned  give  us  little  knowledge  concerning  the 
laws  of  mental  growth  or  development,  the  laws  by 
which  the  mind  passes  from  imperfect  stages  to  more 
complete.  This  important  branch  of  the  study,  called 
genetic  psychology,  is,  for  the  most  part,  untouched 
either  by  the  introspective  or  experimental  methods. 
Both  of  these  deficiencies  are  supplemented  by  the 
comparative  method. 

Forms  of  the  Comparative  Method. — Mind,  as  exist- 
ing in  the  average  human  adult,  may  be  compared  with 
the  consciousness  (1)  of  animals,  (2)  of  children  in  vari- 
ous stages,  (3)  of  defective  and  disordered  minds,  (4)  of 
mind  as  it  appears  in  the  various  conditions  of  race, 
nationality,  etc.  The  study  of  animal  psychology  is 
of  use,  especially  in  showing  us  the  nature  of  the  me- 
chanical and  automatic  activities  of  intelligence,  which 


SCIENCE  AND  METHOD. 


11 


are,  in  the  human  consciousness,  apt  to  be  kept  out 
of  sight  by  the  more  voluntary  states.  The  instinctive 
side  of  mind  has  been  studied  mostly  in  animal  life. 
The  psychology  of  infants  is  of  especial  importance  to 
us  in  connection  with  the  origin  and  genetic  connection 
of  psychical  activities.  The  study  of  minds  which  are 
defective  through  lack  of  some  organ,  as  sight  or  hear- 
ing, serves  to  show  us  what  elements  of  psychical  life 
are  due  to  these  organs,  while  disordered  or  insane 
minds  we  may  almost  regard  as  psychical  experiments 
performed  by  nature.  The  study  of  such  cases  shows 
the  conditions  of  normal  action,  and  the  effects  pro- 
duced if  some  one  of  these  conditions  is  altered  or  if 
the  harmony  of  various  elements  is  disturbed.  The 
study  of  consciousness  as  it  appears  in  various  races, 
tribes,  and  nations  extends  that  idea  of  mind  to  which 
we  would  be  limited  through  the  introspective  study  of 
our  own  minds,  even  if  supplemented  by  observation 
of  the  manifestations  of  those  about  us. 

Objective  Method. — The  broadest  and  most  funda- 
mental method  of  correcting  and  extending  the  results 
of  introspection,  and  of  interpreting  these  results,  so 
as  to  refer  them  to  their  laws,  is  the  study  of  the 
objective  manifestations  of  mind.  Mind  has  not  re- 
mained a passive  spectator  of  the  universe,  but  has  pro- 
duced and  is  producing  certain  results.  These  results 
are  objective,  can  be  studied  as  all  objective  historical 
facts  may  be,  and  are  permanent.  They  are  the  most 
fixed,  certain,  and  universal  signs  to  us  of  the  way  in 
which  mind  works.  Such  objective  manifestations  of 
mind  are,  in  the  realm  of  intelligence,  phenomena  like 
language  and  science;  in  that  of  will,  social  and  political 
institutions;  in  that  of  feeling,  art;  in  that  of  the  whole 


12 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


self,  religion.  Philology,  the  logic  of  science,  history, 
sociology,  etc.,  study  these  various  departments  as  ob- 
jective, and  endeavor  to  trace  the  relations  which  con- 
nect their  phenomena.  But  none  of  these  sciences 
takes  into  account  the  fact  that  science,  religion,  art, 
etc.,  are  all  of  them  products  of  the  mind  or  self,  work- 
ing itself  out  according  to  its  own  laws,  and  that,  there- 
fore, in  studying  them  wTe  are  only  studying  the  funda- 
mental nature  of  the  conscious  self.  It  is  in  these 
wide  departments  of  human  knowledge,  activity,  and 
creation  that  we  learn  most  about  the  self,  and  it  is 
through  their  investigation  that  wrn  find  most  clearly 
revealed  the  laws  of  its  activities. 

Interpretation  in  Self-consciousness. — It  must  be 
borne  in  mind,  however,  that  in  studying  psychological 
facts  by  any  or  all  of  these  methods,  the  ultimate  ap- 
peal is  to  self-consciousness.  None  of  these  facts  mean 
anything  until  they  are  thus  interpreted.  As  objec- 
tive facts,  they  are  not  material  of  psychology,  the}7  are 
still  universal,  and  must  be  interpreted  into  individual 
terms.  What,  for  example,  would  language  mean  to 
an  individual  who  did  not  have  the  power  of  himself 
reproducing  the  language?  It  would  be  simply  a com- 
bination of  uncouth  sounds,  and  would  teach  him 
nothing  regarding  mind.  The  scowl  of  anger  or  the 
bent  knees  of  devotion  have  no  significance  to  one  who 
is  not  himself  capable  of  anger  or  of  prayer.  The 
psychical  phenomena  of  infancy  or  of  the  insane  would 
teach  us  nothing,  because  they  would  be  nothing  to  us, 
if  w?e  did  not  have  the  power  of  putting  ourselves  into 
these  states  in  imagination,  and  thus  seeing  what  they 
are  like. 

So  the  phenomena  made  known  in  physiological 


SCIENCE  AND  METHOD. 


13 


psychology,  would  have  no  value  whatever  for  the 
science  of  psychology,  if  they  were  not  interpretable 
into  facts  of  consciousness.  As  physiological  facts 
they  are  of  no  avail,  for  they  tell  us  only  about  certain 
objective  processes.  These  various  methods,  accord- 
ingly, are  not  so  much  a departure  from  self-conscious- 
ness, as  a method  of  extending  self-consciousness  and 
making  it  wider  and  more  general.  They  are  methods, 
in  short,  of  elevating  us  above  what  is  purely  contin- 
gent and  accidental  in  self-consciousness,  and  revealing 
to  us  what  in  it  is  permanent  and  essential ; what,  there- 
fore, is  the  subject-matter  of  psychology.  It  is  with 
the  true  and  essential  self  that  psychology  deals  in  or- 
der to  ascertain  its  facts  and  explain  them  by  showing 
their  connections  with  each  other. 

One  of  the  most  disputed  points  is  the  relation  of  psychology  to  philoso- 
phy. Upon  this  point  may  be  consulted,  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  9th  edi- 
tion, articles  on  “ Metaphysics,”  by  Caird;  “Philosophy,”  by  Seth;  “Psy- 
cholog}',” by  AVard.  See  also  Mind,  Jan.,  1883,  “ Psychology  and  Philosophy,” 
by  Robertson;  April,  1883,  “ Psychological  Principles;”  Jan.  and  April,  188(5, 
“ The  Psychological  Standpoint,  and  Psychology  as  Philosophic  Method,”  by 
Dewey.  See  also  psychological  reviews  in  the  same  periodical,  by  Adam- 
son (1884  and  1886). 

Concerning  the  method  of  psychology,  something  may  be  found  in  almost 
every  systematic  treatise.  See  Lewes,  “Study  of  Psychology;”  Spencer, 
“Principles  of  Psychology,”  vol.  i.,  pt.  i.,  ch.  vii.;  Sully,  “Outlines  of  Psy- 
chology,” ch.  i. ; Murray,  “Handbook  of  Psychology,”  ch.  i. ; Hamilton, 
“ Metaphysics,”  lectures  viii.  and  ix. ; Porter,  “ Human  Intellect,”  Introduction 
i.  and  iv. ; Volkmann,  “ Lehrbuch  der  Psychologie,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  1-54.  Com- 
pare also  the  introduction  to  Waitz,  “Lehrbuch  der  Psychologie.”  For  an 
excellent  account  of  the  various  methods,  see  Wundt,  “Logik,”  vol.  ii.,  pp. 
478-502,  with  which  compare  “ Philosophische  Studien,”  vol.  i.,  p.  1. 

Upon  the  special  methods,  psycho-physical,  genetic,  etc.,  see  Appendix  B. 
Accounts  of  some  aspects  of  the  more  recent  developments  of  psychology  will 
be  found,  however,  in  articles  upon  “The  New  Psychology,”  in  the  Andover 
Review  for  1884  and  1885,  by  J.  Dewey  and  by  G.  Stanley  Hall.  A discussion 
of  tbe  bearings  of  the  theory  of  evolution  upon  psychology  will  be  found  in 
Sully,  “Sensation  and  Intuition,”  ch.  i. 


14 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


There  is  no  good  history  of  psychology  in  either  English  or  French.  In 
German  the  student  may  consult  Harm’s  “Geschichte  der  Psycliologie,”  and 
Siebeck’s  more  extensive  work  with  the  same  title,  as  yet  (1886)  brought 
down  only  through  mediaeval  psychology.  Much  older,  yet  of  value  in  some 
portions,  is  Carus’s  “ Geschichte  der  Psychologie.”  Volkmann  (np.  cit.')  con- 
tains such  complete  historical  accounts  under  each  topic  as  to  make  it  ex- 
tremely valuable.  Ribot  has  published  accounts  of  contemporary  English 
and  German  psychology,  neither  of  which,  however,  is  so  thorough  or  accu- 
rate that  it  may  be  consulted  instead  of  the  original  authorities.  Hoffding, 
Outlines  of  Psychology,  pp.  1-28,  has  discussed  the  nature  of  psychology. 
See  also  James,  Psychology,  vol.  i. 

See  also  Bowne,  Introduction  to  Psychological  Theory,  pp.  1-7 ; Ladd,  Ele- 
ments of  Physiological  Psychology,  pp.  1-14;  Outlines,  pp.  1-10,  for  physio- 
logical psychology,  and  his  Introduction  to  Philosophy,  ch.  iv\,  for  relations 
of  psychology  to  philosophy. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  MESH)  AND  ITS  MODES  OF  ACTIVITY. 

Introduction. — Psychology  has  to  do  with  the  facts 
of  consciousness,  and  aims  at  a systematic  investigation, 
classification,  and  explanation  of  these  facts.  We  have 
to  begin  with  a preliminary  division  of  consciousness 
into  cognitive,  emotional,  and  volitional,  although  the 
justification  of  the  definition,  like  that  of  psychology, 
cannot  be  seen  until  we  have  considered  the  whole 
subject.  By  consciousness  as  cognitive,  we  mean  as 
giving  knowledge  or  information,  as  appreciating  or 
apprehending,  whether  it  be  appreciation  of  internal 
facts  or  of  external  things  and  events.  By  conscious- 
ness as  emotional,  we  mean  as  existing  in  certain  sub- 
jective states,  characterized  by  either  pleasurable  or 
painful  tone.  Emotional  consciousness  does  not ,%>er  se, 
give  us  information,  but  is  a state  of  feeling.  It  is 
the  affection  of  the  mind.  By  consciousness  as  voli- 
tional, we  mean  as  exerting  itself  for  the  attainment  of 
some  end. 

Cognitive  Cofisciousness. — Every  activity  or  idea  of 
the  mind  may  be  regarded  as  telling  us  about  some- 
thing. The  mind  is  not  what  it  was  before  this  idea 
existed,  but  has  added  information  about  something  to 
its  store.  The  consciousness  may  be  the  perception  of  a 
tree,  the  conception  of  government,  the  idea  of  the  law 
of  gravitation,  the  news  of  the  death  of  a friend,  the 
idea  of  a house  which  one  is  planning  to  build  ; it  may, 


16 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


in  short,  have  reference  to  some  object  actually  exist- 
ing, to  some  relation  or  law ; it  may  be  concerned 
with  one’s  deepest  feelings,  or  with  one’s  activities;  but 
in  any  case,  so  far  as  it  tells  about  something  that  is,  or 
has  happened,  or  is  planned,  it  is  knowledge — in  short, 
it  is  the  state  of  being  aware  of  something,  and  so  far 
as  any  state  of  consciousness  makes  us  aware  of  some- 
thing it  constitutes  knowledge. 

Feeling. — But  the  state  of  consciousness  is  not  con- 
fined to  giving  us  information  about  something.  It 
may  also  express  the  value  which  this  information  has 
for  the  self.  Every  consciousness  has  reference,  not 
only  to  the  thing  or  event  made  known  by  it,  but  also 
to  the  mind  knowing,  and  is,  therefore,  a state  of  feel- 
ing, an  affection  of  self.  And  since  every  state  of  con- 
sciousness is  a state  of  self,  it  has  an  emotional  side. 
Our  consciousness,  in  other  words,  is  not  indifferent 
or  colorless,  but  it  is  regarded  as  having  importance, 
having  value,  having  interest.  It  is  this  peculiar  fact 
of  interest  which  constitutes  the  emotional  side  of 
consciousness,  and  it  signifies  that  the  idea  which  has 
this  interest  has  some  unique  connection  with  the  self, 
so  that  it  is  not  only  a fact,  an  item  of  knowledge,  but 
also  a way  in  which  the  self  is  affected.  The  fact  of 
interest,  or  connection  with  the  self,  may  express  itself 
either  as  pleasurable  or  painful.  ISTo  state  of  conscious- 
ness can  be  wholly  indifferent  or  have  no  value  what- 
ever for  the  self ; though  the  perception  of  a tree,  the 
hearing  of  a death  of  a friend,  or  the  plan  of  building 
a house  will  have  very  different  values. 

Will. — A state  of  consciousness  is  also  an  expression 
of  activity.  As  we  shall  see  hereafter,  there  is  no  con- 
sciousness which  does  not  depend  upon  the  associating, 


THE  MIND  AND  ITS  MODES  OF  ACTIVITY. 


IT 


and  especially  the  attentive,  activities  of  mind ; and 
looked  at  in  this  way,  every  consciousness  involves 
will,  since  in  the  perception  of  a tree,  in  the  hear- 
ing of  the  death  of  a friend,  or  in  the  plan  to  build  a 
house,  the  mind  is  engaged  in  action.  It  is  never 
wholly  passive  in  an}7  consciousness.  Yet  it  is  evident 
that  in  the  perception  of  the  tree  that  factor  of  the 
consciousness  is  especially  regarded  which  gives  us  in- 
formation about  something;  in  the  death  of  a friend 
it  is  not  with  the  fact  of  news  nor  with  the  mind’s  ac- 
tivity that  we  are  concerned,  but  with  the  way  in  which 
the  mind,  the  self,  is  aifected  ; while  in  the  plan  and 
execution  of  the  plan  of  building  a house  it  is  especial- 
ly with  the  activity  of  the  mind  as  devoted  to  realizing 
or  bringing  about  a certain  intention,  purpose,  or  end 
that  we  have  to  do.  The  first  would,  ordinarily,  be 
called  an  act  of  knowledge,  the  second,  a mode  of  emo- 
tion, and  to  the  third  would  be  restricted  the  term  voli- 
tion or  will.  Any  state  of  consciousness  is  really  knowl- 
edge, since  it  makes  us  aware  of  something ; feeling, 
since  it  has  a certain  peculiar  reference  to  ourselves, 
and  will,  since  it  is  dependent  upon  some  activity  of 
ours  ; but  concretely  each  is  named  from  the  one  aspect 
which  predominates. 

Relations  to  Each  Other. — Feeling,  knowledge,  and 
will  are  not  to  be  regarded  as  three  hinds  of  conscious- 
ness ; nor  are  they  three  separable  parts  of  the  same 
consciousness.  They  are  the  three  aspects  which  every 
consciousness  presents,  according  to  the  light  in  which 
it  is  considered  ; whether  as  giving  information,  as  af- 
fecting the  self  in  a painful  or  pleasurable  way,  or  as 
manifesting  an  activity  of  self.  But  there  is  still  another 
connection.  Just  as  in  the  organic  body  the  process  of 


18 


_ PSYCHOLOGY. 


digestion  cannot  go  on  without  that  of  circulation,  and 
both  require  respiration  and  nerve  action,  which  in  turn 
are  dependent  upon  the  other  processes,  so  in  the  or- 
ganic mind.  Knowledge  is  not  possible  without  feeling 
and  will;  and  neither  of  these  without  the  other  two. 

Dependence  of  Knowledge. — Take,  for  example,  the 
perception  of  a tree  or  the  learning  of  a proposition  in 
geometry.  It  may  seem  at  first  as  if  the  perception  of 
a tree  were  a purely  spontaneous  act,  which  we  had 
only  to  open  our  eyes  to  perform,  but  we  shall  see  that 
it  is  something  which  has  been  learned.  Indeed,  we 
have  only  to  notice  an  infant  to  discover  that  the  per- 
ception of  an  object  is  a psychical  act  which  has  to  be 
learned  as  much  as  the  truth  of  geometry.  What,  then, 
is  necessary  for  the  apprehension  of  either  act?  First, 
feeling  is  necessary,  for  unless  the  mind  were  affected 
in  some  way  by  the  object  or  the  truth,  unless  it  had 
some  interest  in  them,  it  would  never  direct  itself  to 
them,  would  not  pay  attention  to  them,  and  they  would 
not  come  within  its  sphere  of  knowledge  at  all. 

They  might  exist,  but  they  would  have  no  existence 
for  the  mind,  unless  there  were  something  in  them 
which  excited  the  mind.  Knowledge  depends  on  feel- 
ing. But,  again,  the  feeling  results  in  knowledge  only 
because  it  calls  forth  the  attention  of  the  mind,  and  di- 
rects the  mind  to  the  thing  or  truth  to  be  known  ; and 
this  direction  of  the  attention  is  an  act  of  will.  In  the 
case  of  first  learning  the  proposition  of  geometry,  it  is 
easy  to  see  that  the  directing,  controlling,  concentrat- 
ing activity  of  will  is  constantly  required,  and  the  ap- 
prehension of  the  tree  differs  only  in  that  there  atten- 
tion is  automatically  and  spontaneously  called  forth, 
according  to  principles  to  be  studied  hereafter. 


THE  MIN'D  AND  ITS  MODES  OF  ACTIVITY.  19 

Dependence  of  Volition. — An  act  of  will  involves 
knowledge.  It  may  be  a comparatively  simple  act, 
like  writing,  or  a complex  one,  like  directing  some  great 
business  operation.  In  either  case  there  is  required  a 
definite  idea  of  the  end  to  be  reached,  and  of  the  vari- 
ous means  which  are  requisite  for  reaching  it;  knowl- 
edge of  the  result  aimed  at  and  of  the  processes  in- 
volved in  bringing  it  about  are  necessary  for  the  exe- 
cution of  any  volition.  But  there  is  also  a dependence 
upon  feeling.  Only  that  will  be  made  an  object  of  vo- 
lition which  is  desired,  and  only  that  will  be  desired 
which  stands  in  some  relation  to  self.  The  purely  un- 
interesting or  colorless  object,  that  which  has  not  emo- 
tional connections,  is  never  made  an  end  of  action.  It 
is  a mere  truism  to  say  that  one  never  acts  except  for 
that  which  he  believes  to  be  of  some  importance,  how- 
ever slight,  and  this  element  of  importance,  of  value,  is 
always  constituted  by  reference  to  self,  by  feeling. 

Dependence  of  Feeling. — Feeling,  on  the  other  hand, 
presupposes  volition.  Where  there  is  no  excitation, 
no  stimulation,  no  action,  there  is  no  feeling.  When 
we  study  feeling  in  detail  we  shall  find  that  pleasura- 
ble feeling  is  always  an  accompaniment  of  healthy  or 
of  customary  action,  and  unpleasant  feeling  the  reverse. 
It  is  enough  to  notice  now  that  feeling  is  the  reference 
of  any  content  of  consciousness  to  self,  and  that  the 
self  is  only  as  it  acts  or  reacts.  Without  action  or  re- 
action there  is,  therefore,  no  feeling.  If  we  inquire 
into  the  pleasure  which  arises  from  the  acquisition  of 
money,  or  the  pain  which  comes  from  the  loss  of  a 
friend,  we  shall  find  that  one  furthers  and  assists  cer- 
tain modes  of  activity  which  are  in  some  way  identified 
with  the  self,  while  the  other  hinders  them,  or  wholly 


20 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


destroys  them.  One,  in  short,  develops  the  self ; the 
other  reduces  it.  The  activity  of  the  self,  either  in 
raising  or  lowering  the  level  of  its  activity,  expresses 
itself  in  feeling. 

All  concrete,  definite  forms  of  feeling  depend  also 
upon  the  intellectual  activities.  We  find  our  feelings 
clustering  about  objects  and  events;  we  find  them  as- 
sociated with  the  forms  of  knowledge,  and  just  in  the 
degree  in  which  they  are  thus  associated  do  they  cease 
to  be  vague  and  undefinable.  Even  in  the  lowest 
forms  of  emotional  consciousness,  as  the  pleasure  of 
eating,  or  the  pain  of  a bruise,  we  find  some  reference 
to  an  object.  The  feeling  is  not  left  floating,  as  it  were, 
but  is  connected  with  some  object  as  its  cause,  or  is  lo- 
calized in  some  part  of  the  organism.  The  higher  and 
more  developed  the  feeling,  the  more  complete  and 
definite  is  the  connection  with  the  intellectual  sphere. 
The  emotions  connected  with  art,  with  morals,  with 
scientific  investigation,  with  religion,  are  incomprehen- 
sible without  constant  reference  to  the  objects  with 
which  they  are  concerned. 

Necessary  Connection  with  Each  Other. — We  have 
now  seen  that  will,  knowledge,  and  feeling  are  not 
three  kinds  of  consciousness,  but  three  aspects  of  the 
same  consciousness.  We  have  also  seen  that  each  of 
these  aspects  is  the  result  of  an  artificial  analysis,  since, 
in  any  concrete  case,  each  presupposes  the  other,  and 
cannot  exist  without  it.  The  necessity  of  this  mutual 
connection  may  be  realized  by  reverting  to  our  defini- 
tion of  psychology,  where  it  was  said  that  psychology 
is  the  science  of  the  reproduction  of  some  universal 
content  in  the  form  of  individual  consciousness.  Every 
Consciousness,  in  other  words,  is  the  relation  of  a uni- 


THE  MIND  AND  ITS  MODES  OF  ACTIVITY. 


21 


versal  and  an  individual  element,  and  cannot  be  under- 
stood without  either.  It  will  now  be  evident  that  the 
universal  element  is  knowledge,  the  individual  is  feel- 
ing, while  the  relation  which  connects  them  into  one 
concrete  content  is  will.  It  will  also  be  seen  that 
knowledge  and  feeling  are  partial  aspects  of  the  self, 
and  hence  more  or  less  abstract,  while  will  is  complete, 
comprehending  both  aspects.  We  will  take  up  each 
of  these  points  briefly. 

Knowledge  as  Universal.  — We  have  already  seen 
that  the  subject-matter  of  knowledge  is  universal ; that 
is  to  say,  it  is  common  to  all  intelligences.  What  one 
knows  every  one  else  may  know.  In  knowledge  alone 
there  is  no  ground  for  distinction  between  persons. 
Were  individuals  knowing  individuals  only,  no  one 
would  recognize  his  unique  distinctness  as  an  individual. 
All  know  the  same,  and  hence,  merely  as  knowing,  are 
the  same.  But  feeling  makes  an  inseparable  barrier 
between  one  and  other. 

Two  individuals  might  conceivably  have  feelings 
produced  by  the  same  cause,  and  of  just  the  same  qual- 
ity and  intensity,  in  short,  exactly  like  each  other,  and 
yet  they  would  not  be  the  same  feeling.  They  would 
be  absolutely  different  feelings,  for  one  would  be  re- 
ferred to  one  self,  another  to  another.  It  is  for  this 
reason,  also,  that  as  matter  of  fact  we  connect  knowl- 
edge with  ourselves  as  individuals.  In  any  actual  case 
knowledge  has  some  emotional  coloring,  and  hence  is 
conceived  as  being  one’s  own  knowledge.  Just  in  the 
degree  in  which  this  emotional  coloring  is  absent,  as  in 
the  perception  of  a tree  or  recognition  of  a truth  of 
mathematics,  the  consciousness  is  separated  from  one’s 
individual  self,  and  projected  into  a universe  common 


22 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


to  all.  Individuality  of  consciousness  means  feeling; 
universality  of  consciousness  means  knowledge. 

Will  as  the  Complete  Activity. — The  concrete  con- 
sciousness,  on  the  other  hand,  including  both  the  indh 
vidual  and  the  universal  elements,  is  will.  Will  always 
manifests  itself  either  by  going  out  to  some  universal 
element  and  bringing  it  into  relation  to  self,  into  indi- 
vidual form,  or  by  taking  some  content  which  is  indi- 
vidual and  giving  it  existence  recognizable  by  all  in- 
telligences. The  knowledge  of  a tree  or  recognition  of 
the  truth  of  geometry  illustrate  the  first  form.  Here 
material  which  exists  as  common  material  for  all  con- 
sciousness is  brought  into  relation  with  the  unique,  un- 
sharable  consciousness  of  one.  The  activity  of  will 
starts  from  the  interests  of  the  self,  goes  out  in  the 
form  of  attention  to  the  object,  and  translates  it  into 
the  medium  of  my  or  your  consciousness — into  terms 
of  self,  or  feeling.  If  we  consider  this  activity  in  the 
value  which  it  has  as  manifesting  to  us  something  of 
the  nature  of  the  universe,  it  is  knowledge ; if  we  con- 
sider it  in  the  value  which  it  has  in  the  development 
of  the  self,  it  is  feeling;  if  we  consider  it  as  an  activity, 
including  both  the  universal  element  which  is  its  con- 
tent, and  the  individual  from  which  it  starts  and  to 
which  it  returns,  it  is  will.  This  we  may  call  in- 
coming will,  for  its  principal  phase  is  that  in  which  it 
takes  some  portion  of  the  universe  and  brings  it  into 
individual  consciousness,  or  into  the  realm  of  feeling. 

Out-going  Will.  — The  other  form  of  will  is  that 
which  starts  from  some  individual  consciousness  and 
gives  it  existence  in  the  universe.  The  first  stage  is  a 
desire,  a plan,  or  a purpose;  and  these  exist  only  in  my 
or  your  consciousness,  they  are  feelings.  But  the  ac- 


THE  HIND  AND  ITS  MODES  OF  ACTIVITY. 


23 


tivity  of  self  takes  bold  of  these,  and  projects  them  into 
external  existence,  and  makes  them  a part  of  the  world 
of  objects  and  events.  If  the  desire  be  to  eat,  that  is 
something  which  belongs  wholly  to  the  individual ; the 
act  of  eating  is  potentially  present  to  all  intelligences; 
it  is  one  of  the  events  that  happen  in  the  world.  If  the 
purpose  be  to  obtain  riches,  that,  again,  is  a purely  in- 
dividual consciousness  ; but  the  activities  which  procure 
these  riches  are  universal  in  nature,  for  they  are  as  pres- 
ent to  the  intelligence  of  one  as  another.  If  the  plan 
be  to  build  a house,  the  plan  formed  is  individual ; the 
plan  executed,  the  house  built,  is  universal.  This  act 
of  will  resulting  in  rendering  an  individual  content 
universal  may  be  called  out-going  will,  but  its  essence 
is  the  same  as  that  of  in-coming  will.  It  connects  the 
two  elements  which,  taken  in  their  separateness,  we  call 
feeling  and  knowledge. 

The  Subjective  and  Objective. — Feeling  is  the  sub- 
jective side  of  consciousness,  knowledge  its  objective 
side.  Will  is  the  relation  between  the  subjective  and 
the  objective.  Every  concrete  consciousness  is  this 
connection  between  the  individual  as  subjective,  and 
the  universe  as  objective.  Suppose  the  consciousness 
to  be  that  arising  from  a cut  of  a finger.  The  pain  is 
purely  subjective  ; it  belongs  to  the  self  pained  and 
can  be  shared  by  no  other.  The  cut  is  an  objective 
fact ; something  which  may  be  present  to  the  senses 
of  all,  and  apprehended  by  their  intelligences.  It  is 
one  object  amid  the  world  of  objects.  Or,  let  the  con- 
sciousness be  that  of  the  death  of  a friend.  This  has 
one  side  which  connects  it  uniquely  with  the  indi- 
vidual ; it  has  a certain  value  for  him  as  a person,  with- 
out any  reference  to  its  bearings  as  an  event  which  has 


2 I 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


happened  objectively.  It  is  subjective  feeling.  But 
it  also  is  an  event  which  has  happened  in  the  sphere 
of  objects;  something  present  in  the  same  way  to  all. 
It  is  objective;  material  of  information.  Will  always 
serves  to  connect  the  subjective  and  the  objective  sides, 
just  as  it  connects  the  individual  and  the  universal. 

The  student  must,  at  the  outset,  learn  to  avoid  re- 
garding consciousness  as  something  purely  subjective 
or  individual,  which  in  some  way  deals  with  and  re- 
ports a world  of  objects  outside  of  consciousness.  Speak- 
ing from  the  standpoint  of  psychology,  consciousness  is 
always  both  subjective  and  objective,  both  individual 
and  universal.  We  may  artificially  analyze,  and  call 
one  side  feeling  and  the  other  knowledge,  but  this  is 
an  analysis  of  consciousness ; it  is  not  a separation  of 
consciousness  from  something  which  is  not  in  conscious- 
ness. For  psychology  no  such  separation  can  possibly 
exist. 

Method  of  Treatment. — In  treating  the  material  of 
psychology  it  is  necessary,  for  purposes  of  presenta- 
tion, to  regard  the  separation  of  feeling  from  knowl- 
edge, and  both  from  will,  as  more  complete  and  rigid 
than  it  can  be  as  matter  of  actual  fact.  Each  will  be 
considered  separately,  as  if  it  were  an  independent, 
self-sufficient  department  of  the  mind.  It  might  seem 
most  logical  to  begin  this  treatment  with  feeling,  as 
that  is  the  most  intimate,  internal  side  of  consciousness, 
but  the  dependence  of  the  definite  forms  of  feeling 
upon  the  definite  forms  of  knowledge  is  so  close  that 
this  is  practically  impossible.  The  dependence  of 
knowledge  upon  feeling  is,  however,  a general,  not  a 
specific  one;  so  the  subject  of  knowledge  can  be  treated 
with  only  a general  reference  to  feeling.  Will,  as  pre 


THE  MIND  AND  ITS  MODES  OF  ACTIVITY. 


25 


supposing  both  knowledge  and  feeling,  will  be  treated 
last. 

Material  and  Processes. — In  treating  each  of  these 
heads  we  shall  also,  for  purposes  of  clear  presentation, 
subdivide  the  subject  into  three  topics : (1)  material, 
(2)  processes,  (3)  results.  That  is  to  say,  the  object  of 
the  science  of  psychology  is  to  take  the  concrete  mani- 
festations of  mind,  to  analyze  them  and  to  explain  them 
by  connecting  them  with  each  other.  We  shall  regard 
the  existing  states  as  the  result  of  the  action  of  cer- 
tain processes  upon  a certain  raw  material.  We  shall 
consider,  first,  the  raw  material ; second,  the  processes 
by  which  this  raw  material  is  worked  up  or  elaborated  ; 
and  third,  the  concrete  forms  of  consciousness,  the  act- 
ual ideas,  emotions,  and  volitions  which  result  from  this 
elaboration.  The  first  two  accordingly  correspond  to 
nothing  which  has  separate  independent  existence,  but 
are  the  result  of  scientific  analysis.  The  actual  exist- 
ence is,  in  all  cases,  the  third  element  only,  that  of  re- 
sult. Beginning,  therefore,  with  knowledge,  we  shall 
define  sensation  as  its  raw  material,  consider  the  pro- 
cess of  apperception,  which  elaborates  this  material  into 
the  successive  stages  of  perception,  memory,  imagina- 
tion, thinking,  and  intuition,  finally  recognizing  that 
the  concrete  intellectual  act  is  always  one  of  intuition. 

Upon  the  questions  of  the  relations  of  the  various  psychical  factors  to  each 
other,  and  of  the  so-called  faculties  of  the  soul  (questions  which  can  hardly 
be  separated),  the  following  authorities  may  be  consulted : Hamilton  (op. 
cit .),  lects.  x.  and  xi. ; Porter  (op.  cit.),  introo.  iii. ; Bain,  “ Senses  and  Intel- 
lect,” ch.  i.,  pp.  321-327;  Spencer  (op.  cit.),  pt.  2,  chs.  ii.  and  ix. ; Sully, 
‘ Psychology,”  ch.  ii ; Lewes,  “Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,”  First  Series, 
p.  116;  Third  Series,  p.  240;  Striimpell,  “Grundriss  der  Psvchologie,”  pp.  1- 
14,95-100;  George,  “Lehrbuch  der  Psychologie,”  pp.  70-124;  Ulrici,  “Der 
Leib  und  die  Seele,”  vol.  i.,  pt.  2,  p.  161;  Horwicz,  “ Psychologische  Analy- 
sen,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  155-  175;  Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  54-216;  Ward, 
2 


26 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Encyclopedia  Britannica , article  “Psychology.”  More  directly  upon  the 
faculties  of  the  soul,  see  Wundt,  “Grundziige  der  physiologischen  Psycholo- 
gies’ vol.  i.,  pp.  9-18;  Ilerbart,  “Lehrbuch  der  Psychologies’  pt.  ii.,  ch.  i. ; 
Lotze,  “ Medicinische  Psychologies’  § 13G  (this  work  of  Lotze’s  is  very  rare, 
but  a translation  of  the  first  part  of  it  may  be  had  in  French,  under  the  title, 
“ Principes  Gdndraux  de  Psychologie  Physiologique  ”),  and  “ Microscosmus  ” 
(Eng.  transl. ),  vol.  i.,  pp.  168-181;  Drobisch,  “Empirisclie  Psychologie,” 
pp.  268-337 ; Steinthal,  “ Einleitung  in  die  Psychologie  und  Sprachwissen- 
schaft,”  pp.  290-306;  Yolkmann  (op.  cit.~),  yol.  i.,  pp.  22-34. 

Upon  the  educational  bearings  of  these  topics,  see  Heine,  “ Die  piidago* 
gische  Seelenlehre,”  and  Jolv,  “Notions  de  Pedagogie,”  pp.  32-61. 


PART  I. — KNOWLEDGE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

§ 1.  Sensation  in  General. 

Sensation  Identified.  — However  great  the  difficul- 
ties connected  with  sensation,  it  is  the  easiest  of  all 
mental  phenomena  to  identify.  The  feeling  of 
warmth,  of  pressure,  the  hearing  of  a noise,  the 
seeing  of  a color  — such  states  as  these  are  sensa- 
tions. In  reference  to  its  bodily  conditions,  also,  a 
sensation  is  easily  defined:  it  is  any  psychical  con- 
dition whose  sole  characteristic  antecedent  is  a stim- 
ulation of  some  peripheral  nerve  structure.  Thus,  we 
refer  the  getting  of  sensations  of  warmth  and  pressure 
to  some  organs  in  the  skin ; noise  to  the  ear ; color  to 
the  eye,  etc.” 

Treatment  of  Subject. — A sensation  is  thus  seen  to 
involve  two  elements — a physical  and  a psychical.  It 
is  concerned,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  body ; on  the 
other  with  the  soul.  The  physical  factor  may  be  con- 
sidered with  reference  either  to  the  stimulus  which 
affects  the  nerve  organ,  or  with  relation  to  the  nerve 
activity  itself.  We  shall  consider,  accordingly,  the  fol- 
lowing topics  under  the  head  of  sensation  : I.  The  phys- 
ical stimulus  in  its  broad  sense,  including  subdivisions 
into  the  extra-organic  stimulus  and  the  physiological. 


28 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


II.  The  psychical  element,  or  sensation  proper.  III.  The 
relation  between  the  physical  and  the  psychical  factors. 
IV.  The  function  of  sensation  in  intellectual  life. 

I.  The  Physical  Stimulus. 

1.  Extra-organic  Stimulus. — While  a few  of  our 
sensations  arise  from  operations  going  on  within  our 
own  body,  the  larger  number,  and  those  most  important 
in  their  cognitive  aspect,  originate  in  affections  of  the 
organism  by  something  external  to  it.  Things  just 
about  us  affect  the  organs  of  touch ; bodies  still  more 
remote  impinge  upon  us  through  the  sense  of  hearing, 
while  in  vision  almost  no  limit  is  put  to  the  distance 
from  which  bodies  may  affect  us  through  light.  But 
numerous  as  seem  the  various  ways  in  which  external 
bodies  may  affect  us,  it  is  found  that  these  various 
modes  are  reducible  to  one — motion.  Whether  a body 
is  near  or  far,  the  only  way  in  which  it  affects  the  organ- 
ism so  as  to  occasion  sensation  is  through  motion.  The 
motion  may  be  of  the  whole  mass,  as  when  something 
hits  us;  it  may  be  in  the  inner  particles  of  the  thing, 
as  when  we  taste  or  smell  it;  it  may  be  a movement 
originated  by  the  body  and  propagated  to  us  through 
vibrations  of  a medium,  as  when  we  hear  or  see.  But 
some  form  of  motion  there  must  be.  An  absolutely 
motionless  body  would  not  give  rise  to  any  affection 
of  the  body  such  as  ultimately  results  in  sensation. 

Characteristics  of  Motion. — Accordingly  it  is  not  the 
mere  thing,  but  the  thing  with  the  characteristic  of 
motiou,  that  is  the  extra-organic  stimulus  of  sensation. 
For  psychological  purposes,  the  world  may  be  here  re- 
garded, not  as  a world  of  things  with  an  indefinite 
number  of  qualities,  but  as  a world  of  motions  alone. 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


29 


The  world  of  motion,  however,  possesses  within  itself 
various  differences,  to  which  the  general  properties  of 
sensations  correspond.  Movements  are  not  all  of  the 
same  intensity , form,  or  rapidity.  Put  positively,  mo- 
tion possesses  amplitude,  form , and  velocity.  Ampli- 
tude is  the  extent  to  and  fro,  up  and  down,  of  the 
movement.  It  is  the  length  of  its  swing,  or  the  dis- 
tance which  the  body  moves  from  a point  of  rest.  The 
body  may  move  through  this  distance  in  the  thousandth 
of  a second,  or  in  a second.  This  rate  at  which  a body 
moves  constitutes  its  velocity.  Again,  the  motion  may 
be  regular  or  vibratory,  or  irregular.  Amid  the  regu- 
lar movements  there  may  be  further  differences  of 
form.  It  may  be  circular,  elliptic,  or  parabolic.  It 
may  be  a movement  like  that  of  a pendulum,  a piston, 
or  a trip-hammer. 

Characteristics  of  Sensations. — The  differences  which 
exist  in  sensations  correspond  to  these  differences  in 
stimuli.  To  the  amplitude  of  the  motion  agrees,  in  a 
general  way,  the  intensity  of  the  sensation.  The  wider 
the  swing  of  the  body  the  greater  the  force  with  which 
it  will  impinge  upon  the  sense  organ,  and  the  stronger 
the  resulting  sensation.  To  differences  of  form  cor- 
respond differences  in  quality.  Stimuli  which  are 
irregular  seem  to  occasion  the  vaguer,  confused  sensa- 
tions, like  those  of  taste  and  smell ; the  higher,  of 
hearing  and  sight,  being  produced  by  regular  vibra- 
tions. Within  the  sphere  of  sounds,  the  differences 
between  noises  and  musical  tones  seem  to  correspond 
to  this  distinction  of  stimuli.  Finally,  vibrations  of  a 
low  rate  of  velocity  (below  twenty  per  second)  affect 
us  through  the  sense  of  contact  as  a feeling  of  jar; 
from  nineteen  to  about  forty  thousand  per  second  we 


30 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


have  affections  of  sound ; to  the  various  rates  of  which 
correspond  those  specific  differences  of  sensation  known 
as  pitch.  Above  this  rate  the  vibrations  are  too  nu- 
merous to  be  responded  to  by  the  auditory  apparatus, 
and  we  have  a sharp  feeling  of  whizzing.  When  the 
vibrations  reach  the  enormous  number  of  three  hun- 
dred and  ninety-two  billions  per  second  we  begin  to 
have  color  sensations,  at  this  rate,  of  red;  and  these 
continue  up  to  seven  hundred  and  eighty-five  billions, 
when  violet  finishes.  Between  these  velocities  lies  the 
scale  of  colors.  Above  their  highest  rate  the  eye  does 
not  distinguish  light,  and  we  have  the  motions  which 
produce  the  so-called  actinic  effects  most  largely. 

Classes  of  Extra- organic  Stimuli. — These  may  be 
divided  into  general  and  special.  Certain  forms  of 
motion,  as  mechanical  pressure,  heat,  and  electricity, 
affect  all  sensory  organs  alike.  Any  one  of  them,  if 
applied  to  the  ear,  occasions  sound ; to  the  eye,  light, 
etc.  The  motions  which  are  termed  special  are  pecul- 
iarly adapted  to  some  one  sense  organ,  which  alone  is 
fitted  to  respond  to  them.  Waves  of  ether  awaken  no 
consciousness  within  us  except  as  they  impinge  upon 
the  retina  of  the  eye.  Waves  of  air  find  an  especially 
responsive  medium  in  the  ear,  while  certain  chemical 
actions,  not  understood,  have  special  reference  to  the 
nerves  of  smell  and  taste. 

2.  The  Physiological  Stimulus. — Wo  sensation  exists 
as  yet.  The  external  stimulus  is  but  the  first  prereq- 
uisite. It  is  a condition  which  in  many  cases  may  be 
omitted,  as  when  the  stimulus  arises  within  the  body 
itself.  Its  function  is  exhausted  when  the  nerve  is 
aroused  to  activity.  It  must  be  transformed  into  a 
physiological  motion  before  any  sensation  arises.  The 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


31 


mode  of  transformation  lias  given  rise  to  a division 
of  the  senses  into  mechanical  and  chemical.  In  some 
cases  the  physiological  stimulus  appears  as  a continua- 
tion of  the  external.  Thus  the  extra-organic  stimuli 
occasioning  pressure  undergo  no  decided  alteration 
upon  affecting  the  organs  of  touch ; it  is  highly  prob- 
able that  the  auditory  nerve  continues  the  stimulus 
without  chemical  change.  But  in  taste  and  smell  there 
is  evidently  a chemical  transformation.  The  sapid  or 
odorous  substance  sets  up  some  chemical  process  in 
the  nerve  endings,  and  the  stimulus  reaches  the  brain 
in  a different  form  from  that  originally  affecting  the 
sensory  organ.  In  vision  both  mechanical  and  chemi- 
cal activities  seem  to  be  combined. 

Stages  of  the  Physiological  Stimulus. — Here  three 
stages  may  be  distinguished  : first,  the  excitation  of  the 
peripheral  organ  ; second,  the  conduction  of  the  excite- 
ment thus  produced  along  the  nerve  fibre  to  the  brain  ; 
and,  third,  the  reception  of  and  reaction  upon  the  trans- 
mitted stimulus  by  the  brain.  There  is  change  in  the 
organ,  change  in  the  nerve,  change  in  the  brain.  Subject 
to  a qualification  hereafter  to  be  made,  the  integrity  of 
each  of  these  elements  is  necessary  for  a sensation. 

Specific  Nerve  Energy. — Regarding  the  method  of 
the  reaction  of  the  nerve  organs  upon  the  extra-organic 
stimulus  which  tranforms  it  into  a physiological  one, 
it  may  be  said  that  each  nerve  organ  responds  to  all 
stimuli,  of  whatever  kind,  in  the  same  way.  The  mind, 
for  example,  always  answers  sound  to  all  calls  made 
upon  the  ear,  whether  these  calls  be  made  by  wajr  of 
pressure,  electricity,  or  the  more  ordinary  one  of  vibra- 
tions of  air.  In  the  same  way  the  mind  always  reacts 
with  a sensation  of  light  to  every  excitation  of  the  eye, 


32 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


whether  made  by  etheric  vibration  or  mechanical  press- 
ure and  irritation.  This  is  the  fact  known  as  specific 
nerve  energy ; whether  it  is  due  to  the  original  struc- 
ture of  the  nervous  organism,  or  is  the  result  of  adapta- 
tion through  constant  use  in  one  way,  is  disputed.  Of 
the  fact  itself  there  is  no  doubt. 

Vicarious  Brain  Action. — It  was  mentioned  that  the 
statement  regarding  the  necessity  of  integrity  of  brain, 
nerve,  and  sense  organ  for  the  production  of  a sensation 
would  require  qualification.  It  is  found  that  when  the 
connection  between  the  sense  organ  and  the  brain  has 
once  been  thoroughly  formed  the  latter  tends  to  have 
its  structure  altered  in  such  a way  that,  in  abnormal 
and  unusual  cases,  nervous  changes  going  on  within  it 
may  take  the  place  of  that  usually  occurring  in  the  organ 
and  nerves.  People  who  have  become  blind  in  adult 
life  do  not  lose  their  power  of  imagining  visual  forms 
and  color.  Their  appreciation  of  these  is  as  real,  though 
internal,  as  that  of  the  person  who  has  his  eye  affected 
by  the  physical  stimulus  of  light. 

Persons  who  have  lost  an  arm  or  a leg  still  seem  to 
feel  in  the  amputated  part.  They  continue  to  refer 
sensations  to  the  absent  member.  In  certain  abnormal 
states,  as  in  fevers,  etc.,  sensations  arise  within  the 
brain  itself  of  such  force  and  vividness  as  to  occasion 
utterly  erroneous  ideas  about  the  external  world.  When 
no  affection  of  the  nerve  organ  exists  sounds  are  heard, 
lights  appear,  wonderful  and  strange  scenes,  to  which 
nothing  objective  corresponds,  pass  before  the  vision. 
It  is  hardly  possible  to  account  for  the  phepomena  of 
dreams,  except  upon  the  theory  that  every  excitation 
of  the  brain  is  not  due  to  an  immediately  antecedent 
excitation  of  a sense  organ,  but  may  spontaneously  be 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


33 


called  forth  in  the  brain  itself.  These  various  facts 
lead  to  the  supposition  that  the  activity  in  the  brain 
may  be  self-induced,  under  certain  circumstances,  hav- 
ing the  same  psychical  result  as  would  the  more  reg- 
ular excitation  through  peripheral  organs  and  sensory 
nerves,  and  that,  consequently,  the  ultimate  element 
with  which  the  mind  has  to  deal  is  the  change  in  the 
brain  alone. 

II.  The  Psychical  Pactok. 

Sensation  as  Consciousness. — We  have  as  yet  no 
sensation.  A sensation  is  psychical ; it  is  a conscious- 
ness; it  not  only  exists,  but  it  exists  for  the  self.  The 
changes  in  the  nervous  system,  including  the  brain, 
are  purely  physical;  they  are  objective  only,  and  have 
no  conscious  existence  for  themselves.  They  exist  in 
consciousness  only  as  brought  into  the  mind  of  some 
spectator.  The  relations  between  the  two  processes, 
the  objective  stimulus  of  motion  and  the  subjective 
response  of  consciousness,  we  shall  study  hereafter. 
At  present  we  are  concerned  with  finding  out  what  are 
the  essential  traits  of  a sensation  considered  as  an  ele- 
ment in  consciousness. 

Erroneous  Theory. — When  we  first  reflect  upon  ouj 
sensations,  it  is  almost  impossible  to  avoid  the  opinion 
that  they  are  independent,  separate  mental  states.  A 
noise  is  wholly  different  from  a color,  a feeling  of 
warmth  from  one  of  weight.  More  than  this:  every 
noise  seems  a unique  event  independent  of  every  other 
noise.  Thus  we  are  easily  led  to  a theory  that  sensa- 
tions are  a series  of  discrete  mental  states,  numerically 
and  qualitatively  separate  from  one  another — atoms  out 
of  which  the  mental  life  is  built.  But  we  are  led  astray 
2* 


y 


34 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


here  bj  a difficulty  already  spoken  of  (page  10).  These 
separate  ideas  of  color  and  sound,  of  the  sounds  of  a 
piano  and  of  a rattling  cart,  are  developed  states  of 
adult  life.  Instead  of  being  original  conditions  out  of 
which  more  complex  products  are  built  up,  they  are 
themselves  complex  results  of  a long  period  of  growth. 
If  we  compare  sensations,  for  example,  with  the  bricks 
out  of  which  a house  is  made,  we  must  remember  that 
bricks  are  manufactured  articles,  for  which  we  must  go 
back  to  some  original  homogeneous  bed  of  clay. 

Sensation  Continuum. — This  illustration  is  meant  to 
point  to  the  fact  that  there  is  a certain  original  continuous 
substratum  of  sensation  out  of  which  the  various  appar- 
ently distinct  sensations  have  been  slowly  differentiated. 
The  reasons  for  holding  the  existence  of  such  an  original 
continuum  are  fourfold:  historical,  physiological,  ex- 
perimental, and  derived  from  psychological  analysis. 

1.  Historical. — If  we  accept  the  theory  of  evolution, 
we  are  inevitably  committed  to  the  doctrine  of  a single 
original  continuous  and  homogeneous  whole  of  sensation 
which  is  neither  warmth  nor  taste  nor  sound,  but 
from  which  these,  and  all  other,  sensory  qualities  have 
been  gradually  developed.  As  we  go  lower  and  lower 
in  the  animal  scale,  we  find  the  distinctions  of  sense- 
organs  slowly  obliterated,  until  we  get  to  a point  where 
there  are  no  differentiated  organs  for  sight,  sound,  and 
touch  at  all.  At  this  point,  sensation  must  be  one 
palpitating  homogeneous  mass  of  consciousness,  with 
no  breach  of  continuity  of  kind  or  number,  but  simply 
expanding  and  contracting  in  intensity. 

2.  Physiological.  — The  brain  is  both  anatomically 
and  functionally  a single  (or,  at  most,  dual)  organ. 
There  is,  of  course,  a great  degree  of  specialization  and 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


35 


even  of  localization  of  function  within  it.  Centres  of 
sight,  hearing,  and  touch  are  more  or  less  spatially  as 
well  as  functionally  distinct.  But  there  is  reason  to 
believe  that  this  specialization,  like  the  corresponding 
division  of  labor  in  society,  is  acquired,  not  original, 
resting  on  the  principle  of  economy,  or  the  richest  re- 
sult with  the  greatest  ease.  Even  with  the  most  extreme 
localization,  there  is  no  separation  of  sensory  centres. 
The  centres  for  sight,  for  touch,  for  movement,  etc.,  are 
all  interwoven  into  one  larger  whole.  With  the  move- 
ment of  specialization,  of  differentiation,  goes  a move- 
ment of  reunion,  of  interconnection.  While,  for  ex- 
ample, the  auditory  centre  may  be  constantly  gaining 
in  distinctness  of  localization,  it  is  also  gaining  in  mul- 
tifariousness of  connections  with  the  other  sensory 
centres.  Physiological  considerations,  in  fine,  instead 
of  pointing  to  original  atomic  sensations,  point  to  a 
massive  homogeneous  sensation,  gradually  differenti- 
ated indeed,  but,  at  the  same  time,  with  these  different 
sensations  bound  into  a whole. 

3.  Experimental.  — A few  years  ago  it  was  discov- 
ered that  some  persons  whenever  they  hear  a certain 
sound  see  a certain  color  (photism),  or  when  they  see 
a color  hear  a sound  (phonisin).  This  integration  of 
sensations  usually  distinct  is  so  thorough -going  that 
such  persons  are  surprised  upon  finding  that  eveiy  one 
does  not  have  the  same  experience.  It  is  also  known 
that  large  numbers  of  persons  at  least  associate  in  a 
regular  way  different  qualities  of  sensation,  and  that 
there  are  various  grades  shading  off  from  loose  associa- 
tion to  almost  actual  sensation.  Still  later  it  was  dis- 
covered that  all  sensations,  no  matter  how  apparently 
separate  in  quality,  are  so  closely  connected  as  greatly 


36 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


to  influence  one  another.  A tone  from  a tuning-fork, 
for  example,  may  render  visible  a color  not  previously 
strong  enough  to  be  seen  ; or,  if  occurring  simultane- 
ously with  a visible  color,  may  perhaps  render  it  invis- 
ible ; or  one  may  produce  oscillations,  as  it  were,  in  the 
intensity  of  the  other — the  phenomena  being  different 
in  kind  with  different  colors,  sounds,  and  with  different 
people,  and  yet  uniformly  showing  some  influence  of 
all  kinds  of  sensation  upon  one  another. 

4.  Psychological.  — The  evidence  here  is  both  gen- 
eral (or  inferential)  and  specific.  Generally  speaking, 
the  difficulties  which  we  fall  into,  upon  the  basis  of 
the  atomic  theory  of  sensation,  in  explaining  the  appar- 
ent unity  of  mental  action  and  of  mental  products  is 
an  argument  against  the  theory.  The  moment  we 
start  from  the  supposition  of  atomic  units  we  are 
obliged  also  to  have  recourse  to  some  special  process 
for  re-connecting  these  units.  Some  call  the  process 
“indissoluble  association,”  others  a sjoecial  relating 
power  of  the  mind.  More  particularly,  examination 
shows  that  the  discreteness  and  independence  which 
we  attribute  to  our  sensations  belong  rather  to  the  ob- 
jects to  which  we  refer  the  sensory  qualities.  A color, 
taken  in  itself,  is  simply  one  differentiation  of  a sen- 
sory continuum,  and  a sound,  taken  in  itself,  is  anoth- 
er. They  are  no  more  two  separate  psychical  states 
than  a brook  now  falling  over  a rock  and  now  repos- 
ing in  a pool  is  two  brooks.  But  the  sound  is  referred, 
say,  to  a bell ; the  color  to  a table-cloth.  We  then  fal- 
laciously attribute  the  spatial  independence  and  sep- 
arateness of  the  objects  to  the  sensations  themselves. 
Or,  if  the  color  and  the  sound  are  both  referred  to  the 
same  object,  as  the  bell,  they  are  different  qualities  of 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


37 


the  object,  and  we  confuse  the  difference  of  objective 
meaning  with  difference  of  psychical  condition. 

III.  The  Relation  of  the  Physical  Factor  to  the 
Psychical. 

We  are  introduced  at  the  outset  to  one  of  the  most 
difficult  problems  of  psychology.  The  general  ques- 
tion is,  What  is  the  relation  between  the  external  world, 
including  the  organized  body,  and  the  mind  or  self? 
In  this  particular  case  the  question  takes  the  form, 
What  is  the  connection  between  sensations  or  psychi- 
cal states  and  the  physical  and  neural  changes  which 
excite  them? 

Various  Theories. — We  shall  first  consider  two  op- 
posed and  extreme  theories,  and  then  pass  to  what  we 
conceive  to  be  the  true  view  of  the  matter.  Of  these 
two  theories,  one,  which  we  may  call  the  materialistic 
theory,  regards  sensations  as  facts  of  the  same  kind 
and  order  as  the  physical  motions  which  occasion  them, 
and  reduces  consciousness  to  one  of  the  forms  in  which 
material  motion  appears.  The  other,  or  dualistic  the- 
ory, denies  any  connection  whatever  between  mind 
and  matter,  between  the  sensation  and  the  neural 
change  which  appears  to  originate  it.  One  theory,  in 
short,  absorbs  mind  in  matter,  while  the  other  holds 
that  there  is  a chasm  between  them  over  which  no 
bridge  can  be  built.  Materialism  identifies  the  sensa- 
tion with  its  mechanical  occasion.  Dualism  holds  to 
two  opposed  and  unconnected  sets  of  phenomena;  one 
physical,  the  other  psychical. 

1.  Dualism. — This  will  be  dealt  with  briefly,  both 
because  the  most  extreme  upholders  of  the  general  in- 
dependence of  mind  and  matter  rarely  go  so  far  as  to 


38 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


deny  the  relative  dependence  of  sensation  on  nervous 
change,  and  because  the  fact  of  the  dependence  is  so 
evident  upon  examination.  So  far  as  we  know,  posi- 
tively, no  sensation  occurs  without  some  accompanying 
change  of  nervous  tissue.  Negatively,  the  loss  of  an 
organ,  conducting  nerve,  or  brain  centre  is  found  to  be 
accompanied  by  corresponding  loss  of  sensation.  Fur- 
thermore, whatever  increases  or  diminishes  the  nervous 
activity  is  found  to  increase  or  diminish  the  intensity 
of  the  corresponding  sensation.  We  thus  have  about 
all  the  evidence  we  could  desire  as  to  some  connec- 
tion between  the  conscious  sensation  and  the  nervous 
change. 

2.  Materialism. — This  holds  that  all  the  facts  of  the 
universe,  mind  included,  are  to  be  reduced  to  changes 
of  matter  and  motion.  It  holds  that  the  law  of  the 
conservation  and  correlation  of  energy  is  the  highest 
law  of  all  phenomena,  and  that  this  is  as  true  of  psy- 
chical phenomena,  and  of  their  relation  to  physical,  as 
it  is  of  the  facts  of  heat  or  of  electricity.  It  holds, 
that  is  to  say,  that  all  phenomena  are  reducible  to 
forms  of  motion  which  are  convertible  into  each  other 
without  loss  or  increase  of  energy  or  power  of  doing 
work.  Thus,  we  know  that  light  is  changeable  into 
heat,  heat  into  chemical  energy,  this  into  electricity, 
while  electricity  completes  the  circuit  back  into  light. 

Materialism  holds  that  this  generalization  must  be 
applied  to  the  production  of  sensations.  It  says  that 
we  must  believe  that  when  a wave  of  light  reaches  the 
retina  the  energy  involved  in  it  is  converted  into  an 
equal  amount  of  energy  known  as  nervous  action,  which 
is  conveyed  along  the  nerves  to  the  brain,  where  it  sets 
up  another  equal  amount  of  energy,  which  results  in 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


39 


the  state  we  know  as  a sensation.  It  holds  that  along 
this  line  of  changes  there  is  no  breach  of  continuity. 
Each  process  is  the  mechanical  result  of  its  antecedents. 
Sensations,  as  psychical  states,  are  thus  included  among 
the  material  energies  of  the  physical  world,  and  are 
governed  by  the  mechanical  laws  of  this  world.  They 
are  only  one  special  class  of  the  forms  which  energy, 
as  convertible  from  one  mode  into  another,  takes. 

Objections. — To  this  view  there  are  certain  very  se- 
rious objections,  (1)  one  of  which  may  be  urged  from 
the  physical  side  itself,  while  the  other  (2)  is  psycho- 
logical in  its  nature. 

(1.)  Physical. — There  is  an  unlikeness  of  kind  which 
makes  it  impossible  to  apply  the  law  of  the  transforma- 
tion of  energy  to  the  relation  existing  between  sensa- 
tions and  their  stimuli.  The  law  of  the  conservation 
of  energy  has  been  established  regarding  the  phenom- 
ena of  motion  alone,  and  has  meaning  only  with  refer- 
ence to  motions.  Sensations  are  not  motions.  The 
sensation  of  red  may  have  a dependence  upon  a certain 
number  of  etheric  vibrations,  but  as  a sensation  it  is  a 
unique  psychical  state,  having  no  motion,  no  vibrations, 
no  spatial  length  nor  form.  The  motion  is  objective, 
existing  in  space,  possessing  relations  of  form,  size,  and 
number.  The  sensation  is  subjective,  existing  only  in 
the  mind,  having  no  spatial  nor  numerical  relations. 
The  motion  is  an  external  fact  which  must  be  presented 
to  the  senses  to  be  known.  The  sensation  is  internal, 
and  is  directly  known  to  consciousness.  Now  these 
differences  between  the  psychical  and  the  physical  con- 
stitute, it  is  said,  a chasm  which  the  law  of  the  corre- 
lation of  energy  cannot  bridge.  The  law  holds  only  of 
motions ; to  apply  it  to  sensations  is  to  commit  the 


40 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


absurdity  of  supposing  that  a sound  or  color  is  a move- 
ment occurring  in  space. 

Materialism,  Does  not  Explain. — Or  the  objection 
may  be  stated  as  follows : The  only  object  of  applying 
the  law  is  to  explain  psychical  phenomena.  To  ex- 
plain consists,  as  logic  tells  us,  in  pointing  out  a relation 
of  cause  and  effect  existing  between  two  phenomena. 
This  relation  can  be  found  only  where  there  is  quanti- 
tative identity  between  the  fact  antecedent  regarded 
as  cause,  and  the  consequent  considered  to  be  the  effect. 
Where  this  identity  is  not  found  no  causal  relation 
exists.  Now  the  attempt  to  make  the  mechanical  and 
material  phenomena  of  the  world  account  for  the 
psychical,  through  the  law  of  the  conservation  of  en- 
ergy, fails,  when  looked  at  in  this  way,  doubly : (i.)  it 
fails  to  explain  sensation  as  a general  fact;  (ii.)  it  fails 
to  explain  any  of  the  concrete  details  of  sensation. 

(i.)  There  is  no  identity  between  the  sensation  as  a 
state  of  consciousness  and  the  mechanical  motion  which 
precedes  it.  The  striking  fact  of  the  case  is  their  dif- 
ference: one  exists  as  an  objective  spatial  fact  of  move- 
ment, the  other  as  the  unique  psychical  fact  of  con- 
sciousness. No  quantitative  transformation  can  be 
made  out,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  consciousness 
is  not  a quantity.  So  Mr.  Huxley  says:  “How  it  is 
that  anything  so  remarkable  as  a state  of  conscious- 
ness comes  about  by  the  result  of  irritating  nervous 
tissue,  is  just  as  unaccountable  as  the  appearance  of  the 
Djin  when  Aladdin  rubbed  his  lamp.”  Mr.  Tyndall 
remarks  to  the  same  effect  that  “ the  passage  from  the 
physics  of  the  brain  to  the  corresponding  facts  of  con- 
sciousness is  unthinkable.”  The  German  physiologist, 
Du  Bois  Eeymond,  says  that  “if  we  possessed  an  al> 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


41 


solutely  perfect  knowledge  of  the  body,  including  the 
brain  and  all  changes  in  it,  the  psychical  state  known 
as  sensation  would  be  as  incomprehensible  as  now.  For 
the  very  highest  knowledge  we  could  get  would  reveal 
to  us  only  matter  in  motion,  and  the  connection  be- 
tween any  motions  of  any  atoms  in  my  brain,  and  such 
unique,  undeniable  facts  as  that  I feel  pain,  smell  a rose, 
see  red,  is  thoroughly  incomprehensible .”  It  is  evident 
that  if  the  connection  be,  as  affirmed,  unaccountable, 
unthinkable,  incomprehensible,  it  is  impossible  to  ac- 
count for  or  comprehend  the  sensation  by  it. 

( ii .)  Materialism  Fails  to  Throw  any  Light  upon  the 
Specific  Facts  of  Sensation.- — Were  it  supposed  that  we 
even  knew  all  about  the  forms  of  motion  which  affect 
us,  and  knew  the  exact  difference  between  one  form 
and  another,  it  would  still  remain  incomprehensible 
why  one  mode  of  motion  should  give  rise  to  that 
psychical  fact  which  we  know  as  color,  and  another  to 
sound.  So  the  knowledge  of  the  difference  of  rates  of 
rapidity  in  the  musical  scale  does  not  enable  us  to 
explain  why  one  rate  should  result  in  a low  note 
and  another,  more  rapid  rate,  in  a higher.  These  are 
facts  of  consciousness  only,  and  are  as  ultimate  and 
unanalyzable  in  their  differences  from  each  other  as 
they  were  when  nothing  whatever  was  known  about 
the  rates  of  motion.  No  identity  between  the  conscious 
facts  and  the  various  forms  of  physical  motion  can  be 
discovered  which  will  enable  us  to  explain  one  by  the 
other. 

(2.)  Psychological  Objection. — This  objection  cannot 
be  fully  presented  here,  as  it  presupposes  a knowledge 
of  the  results  of  psychological  study  not  yet  attained. 
In  brief,  it  is  this : the  material  motions  which  are  sup- 


42 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


posed  to  be  the  cause  of  psychical  phenomena  are 
never  known  in  any  independent  existence.  They  are 
known  to  exist  only  through  their  relation  to  mind. 
Psychologically  speaking,  the  fact  of  motion  is  a fact 
of  knowledge  which  must  be  accounted  for  through  a 
study  of  the  elements  and  processes  of  the  mind.  It 
is  not  a fact  which  precedes  knowledge  and  can  be 
used  to  account  for  it,  but  it  is  a fact  in  knowledge 
which  must  be  accounted  for  like  all  other  facts  of 
knowledge,  by  means  of  psychological  laws.  Motion 
cannot  be  used  psychologically  to  account  for  mental 
phenomena,  because  it  is  itself  a mental  phenomenon, 
and,  as  such,  depends  upon  psychological  elements  and 
processes.  Materialism  inverts  the  true  order  of  facts 
by  attempting  to  produce  the  subject  from  the  object, 
knowledge  from  things,  while  the  business  of  psychol- 
ogy is  to  deal  with  things  as  known  things,  and  to  show 
how  the  subject,  as  knowing,  is  involved  in  all  those 
facts  which  the  physical  sciences  treated  merely  as  ex- 
isting facts,  overlooking  that  they  are  in  reality  facts 
1 mown  to  exist,  as  facts  in  relation  to  mind.  Motion 
apart  from  mind  is  an  abstraction  and  cannot  be  used 
to  account  for  mind.  Wc  come  now  to  what  seems  to 
be  the  correct  theory  in  the  matter. 

3.  Nervous  Changes  Act  as  Stimuli  to  the  Soul.-*- It  is 
evident  from  what  was  said  under  the  first  head  that 
there  is  some  positive  connection  between  the  material 
process  and  the  psychical.  It  is  evident  from  what 
has  just  been  said  that  this  connection  is  not  of  such  a 
nature  that  the  conscious  sensation  can  be  regarded  as 
transformed  molecular  motion.  Nothing  is  gained, 
however,  by  adopting  a too  customary  evasion,  and  re- 
garding the  sensation  as  an  impression  made  upon  the 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


43 


soul  by  an  external  object,  and  consequently  as  a mere 
passive  reception  or  copy  of  it.  The  sensation  is  a 
copy  of  neither  the  external  nor  the  internal  object 
and  process.  In  the  case  of  vision,  for  example, 
the  external  excitation  is  not  color,  and  certainly  the 
intra-organic  one  is  not ; the  extra-organic  process  is 
simply  certain  undulations  of  ether  which  impinge 
upon  the  retina.  The  intra-organic  process  is  the  ex- 
citation and  transference  of  molecular  motion  in  and 
along  the  nerves  and  brain.  What  finally  affects  the 
mind,  however  it  affects  it,  is  only  this  brain  molecular 
motion,  and  certainly  color  is  not  a mere  passive  re- 
ception of  that. 

Nervous  Change  not  Cause  but  Stimulus.  — This 
molecular  motion,  accordingly,  is  conceived  of  as  simply 
the  stimulus  or  excitation  necessary  to  call  the  soul  into 
activity.  The  soul,  when  thus  incited  to  action,  re- 
sponds to  the  stimulation  with  a characteristic  produc- 
tion of  its  own,  whose  appearance,  relatively  to  the 
physical  phenomena,  is  a virtual  creation  ; that  is,  can- 
not be  in  any  way  got  out  of  them.  The  nervous 
change  is  not,  properly  speaking,  the  cause  of  the  sen- 
sation, nor  is  the  sensation  the  passive  result  of  an  im- 
pression. A sensation  is  not  the  simple  affection  of 
the  soul  by  some  bodily  change,  although  the  affection 
is  a necessary  prerequisite  to  sensation.  The  sensation 
is  the  state  developed  out  of  and  by  the  soul  itself  upon 
occasion  of  this  affection. 

Distinction  between  Physical  and  Psychical  Ac- 
tivity.— This  constitutes  the  great  difference  between 
physical  and  psychical  action.  Pl^sical  energy  is  always 
external ; it  never  acts  upon  itself,  but  is  transferred  be- 
yond itself.  Such  changes  as  external  bodies  undergo 


44 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


are  never  self-originated,  but  are  initiated  from  an  out- 
side source.  But  the  mind  has  the  power  of  acting 
upon  itself  and  of  producing  from  within  itself  a new, 
original,  and  unique  activity  which  we  know  as  sensa- 
tion. The  appearance  of  physical  causation  which  ac- 
companies it  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  nervous  change 
is  always  necessary  as  a stimulus  to  the  soul,  and,  fur- 
thermore, when  this  stimulus  is  once  present,  it  is  not 
left  to  the  soul  voluntarily  to  determine  whether  and 
how  it  will  act,  but,  by  a mechanism  of  its  own,  it  re- 
sponds to  the  stimulus  in  a definite  and  invariable  way. 

IY.  Functions  of  Sensation. 

Having  considered  the  relation  of  the  physical  to 
the  psychical  factor  in  sensation,  w7e  have  now  to 
say  something  about  the  position  of  sensation  in  the 
psychical  life,  or  its  function  considered  with  reference 
to  the  mind  as  a whole. 

1.  Sensation  is  the  meeting-place,  the  point  of  coin- 
cidence of  self  and  nature.  It  is  in  sensation  that  nature 
touches  the  soul  in  such  a way  that  it  becomes  itself  psy- 
chical, and  that  the  soul  touches  nature  so  as  to  become 
itself  natural.  A sensation  is,  indeed,  the  transition  of 
the  physical  into  the  psychical. 

2.  Sensation  is  the  passive  or  receptive  aspect  of 
mind.  This  does  not  mean  that  the  mind  is  purely  pass- 
ive, or  that  it  is  like  a wax  tablet  that  merely  receives 
impressions.  On  the  contrary,  sensation  is  the  result 
of  the  activity  of  the  psycho  - physical  organism,  and 
is  produced,  not  received.  It  is  the  passive  aspect , not 
passive  side,  of  mind.  Sensation,  compared  with  other 
psychical  processes,  indicates  what  is  given  to  these 
processes.  It  is  material  which  they  must  receive  if 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE, 


45 


they  are  to  act.  So  far  as  perception,  or  memory,  or 
thinking  is  concerned,  sensation  is  given,  or  a datum. 
It  represents  the  contact  of  the  individual  with  a realm 
larger  than  himself,  and  upon  which  he  is  dependent 
for  the  material  of  his  mental  operations. 

3.  Sensation  expresses  the  excitation , the  stimulation 
of  mind.  It  arouses  the  mind  to  put  forth  effort, 
either  in  new  fields  or  for  the  more  adequate  appre- 
hension of  the  familiar.  As  excitation  it  possesses  in- 
tensity or  degrees  of  vividness,  and  is  allied  to  feeling. 
In  fact,  the  widest  definition  of  feeling  is  precisely 
psychical  excitement.  Sensation,  as  arousing  the  mind, 
leads  it  to  act,  and  thus  terminates  in  volition.  As 
excitation,  in  short,  it  serves  the  function  of  inducing 
to  knowledge  and  to  volition,  and  is  almost  equivalent 
to  feeling. 

4.  Sensation  indicates  the  particular  factor  in  mental 
products.  That  is,  it  always  refers  the  content  in  con- 
nection with  which  it  is  experienced  to  a this  and  a 
now.  We  can  recollect  or  imagine  or  think  about  light, 
and  the  subject  - matter  under  consideration  by  the 
mind  will  not  vary  essentially  from  that  of  a sensation 
of  light,  but  the  latter  contains  an  index-finger  that 
points  to  the  immediate  experience  of  light,  while 
the  other  acts  of  mind  at  most  tell  of  the  conditions 
under  which  light  might  be  experienced.  In  commu- 
nicating with  another  in  language  we  are  obliged  to 
make  known  the  fact  that  we  are  talking  about  some 
definite  object  by  saying  “this”  or  “ that,”  and  point- 
ing towards  it.  This  function,  thus  performed  by  gest- 
ure, is  performed  in  our  internal  experience  by  the  in- 
trinsic property  of  the  sensation  indicating  a “this” 
and  a “ here.” 


46 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


5.  While  sensation  indicates  existence,  and  this  indi- 
cation is  particular,  it  means  or  signifies  quality , and  this 
meaning  is  general.  Sensation  possesses  quality  as  well 
as  intensity.  This  quality,  if  distinguished,  or  abstract- 
ed, from  the  particular  indication  of  the  sensation,  be- 
comes in  itself  general.  A sensation  of  red  indicates 
present  particular  existence,  but  the  quality  of  redness 
has,  in  itself  ’,  no  more  connection  with  this  existence 
than  with  any  other.  As  redness,  it  is  an  abstract  idea ; 
that  is,  it  is  abstracted  or  drawn  away  from  connection 
with  this  or  that  particular  existence,  and  being  freed 
from  particular  existence  is  itself  universal.  This 
quality  constitutes  meaning,  as  the  indicating  prop- 
erty of  sensation  constitutes  existence.  The  two  fac- 
tors which  in  union  constitute  the  object  of  knowledge 
are  therefore  the  particular  and  the  general,  the  “ this” 
and  the  “ quality.”  The  relating  process  which  trans- 
forms sensations  into  knowledge  consists  in  the  ex- 
plicit development  of  these  two  factors.  On  the  one 
hand,  there  is  an  analytic  activity  which  separates  the 
quality  from  its  particular  manifestation  ; on  the  other, 
the  synthetic,  which  unites  it  with  other  qualities,  and 
refers  it  again  to  existence. 

§ 2.  Development  of  Sensation. 

The  Original  Sensation.  — Before  proceeding  to  the 
details  of  our  present  sensations,  let  us  consider  the 
process  by  which  the  original  sensation  is  differentiat- 
ed, beginning  with  this  supposed  homogeneous  sensa- 
tion itself — a psychical  existence  related  to  our  present 
sensory  experiences  much  as  the  supposed  original  neb- 
ulous gas  is  related  to  existing  solar  systems  and  to  the 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


47 


various  bodies  which  make  up  these  systems.  We  can- 
not, of  course,  accurately  describe  the  nature  of  the 
homogeneous  continuum  which  we  suppose.  But,  by 
analogy,  we  can  form  some  probable  conception  of  its 
character.  Imagine,  for  example,  our  organic  or  gen- 
eral sensation  as  it  is  now ; the  sensation  of  comfort  or 
discomfort  of  the  whole  body,  a feeling  having  no 
definite  spatial  outline  nor  any  distinct  quality  which 
marks  it  off. 

Or,  let  ns  imagine  our  various  sense  organs  losing  all 
their  powers  of  giving  distinct  sense  qualities,  and  be- 
ing retracted  into  a sort  of  substratum  of  sensory  stuff. 
Perhaps  the  nearest  we  get  to  such  an  experience  is 
when  we  are  falling  asleep : our  auditory  sensations  fall 
away  ; then  we  lose  our  sensations  of  color  and  of  form ; 
finally,  our  very  feelings  of  contact,  pressure,  and  tem- 
perature fade  away  into  a dim,  vague  sense  of  nothing 
in  particular.  Or,  again,  consider  an  infant  before  it 
has  gained  use  of  its  eyes  or  ears,  when  the  senses  of 
smell  and  taste  are  still  dull,  and  when  all  thaf  seems 
to  appeal  to  it  are  the  organic  need  of  food,  its  satisfac- 
tion, actual  pain,  and  changes  of  temperature  — even 
these,  it  is  probable,  being  fused  into  a general  sense  of 
well-being  or  the  reverse,  rather  than  distinctly  appre- 
hended. Consider  these  facts,  remember  that  the  sense 
organs  are  still  present  with  their  brain  connections 
and  with  the  inherited  capacities  and  tendencies  of  gen- 
erations, and  we  can  form  some  idea  of  what  a shape- 
less, vague,  diffused  state  a sensation  is  to,  say,  an  oys- 
ter or  a jelly-fish. 

1.  The  Development  is  from  Emotional  to  Intellect- 
ual.— Considering  the  process  of  differentiation  itself, 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  original  sensation  has  a maxi- 


48 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


mum  of  mere  feeling  or  emotional  quality,  and  a mini- 
mum of  intellectual  value.  It  is  simply  the  condition, 
the  inner  affection  of  the  organism  itself;  it  tells  or 
reports  practically  nothing.  It  gives  us  no  qualities  of 
objects.  Going  on  from  this  point,  we  may  classify 
our  present  sensations.  Our  feelings  of  hunger,  thirst, 
fatigue ; our  feelings  of  uneasiness,  well-being,  etc.,  so  far 
as  they  are  not  defined  by  connection  with  specific  ob- 
jects, are  the  residuum,  as  it  were,  of  the  original  homo- 
geneous feeling.  At  the  other  end  of  the  scale  lie  our 
visual  sensations,  having  in  themselves  a minimum  of 
emotional  tone,  and,  with  their  variety  and  distinctness 
of  quality,  the  maximum  of  intellectual  function. 

2.  The  Development  is  from  the  Vague  to  the  Defi- 
nite.— This  is  implied  in  what  has  already  been  said. 
The  lack  of  intellectual  value  in  the  organic  sensation 
is  precisely  its  lack  of  defined  character.  It  has  no 
sharp,  clear-cut  limits  in  locality  or  in  quality.  Then 
we  have  contact  and  pressure  sensations,  which,  while 
capable  of  great  education  and  of  reaching  great  acute- 
ness of  discrimination  in  reference  to  objects,  yet  have 
but  comparatively  few  differences  within  themselves 
except  of  intensity.  Such  differences  as  exist  are 
mainly  of  an  emotional  kind,  as  tickling,  thrilling,  etc. 
Apart  from  intentional  discrimination,  indeed,  our  con- 
tact sensations  may  be  said  to  form  a perfect  jungle. 
Then  we  have  smell  and  taste,  with  some  differences  of 
quality  indeed,  but  yet,  upon  the  whole,  vague.  The 
difficulty  of  discriminating  various  kinds  of  pure  odors 
or  tastes  from  one  another,  the  tendency  of  one  to  pass 
into  another  without  a sharp  boundary  line,  their  poor 
spatial  localization — all  illustrate  this.  In  great  con- 
trast are  the  auditory  and  visual  sensations,  with  their 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


49 


sharp  and  clear  limits  in  quality,  their  quick  and  accu- 
rate localization  in  space  and  time. 

3.  The  Development  Involves  Increased  Differentia- 
tion and  Mobility  of  Sense  Organs.  — Organic  sensa- 
tion has  to  wait  passively,  as  it  were,  for  the  stimulus 
to  come  to  it.  But  no  special  sense  organ  can  be  pure- 
ly passive,  even  physically  speaking,  in  sensation.  It 
must  adjust  itself  to  the  stimulus. 

The  mouth  must  secrete  saliva  and  move  the  sapid 
substance  about.  We  must  sniff  with  the  nostrils. 
The  tympanum  of  the  ear  must  be  stretched  ; the  eye- 
lenses  must  be  accommodated,  and  the  two  eyes  con- 
verged, and  each  must  have  muscular  connections. 
But  the  connection  of  contact  sensations  with  muscu- 
lar sensations  is  still  more  intimate.  Normally  they 
are  inextricably  united.  It  is  only  in  disease  that  we 
ever  have  one  without  the  other.  Thus  the  activities 
of  our  own  body  and  those  of  external  bodies  are  in- 
dissolubly associated  from  the  first.  The  whole  impor- 
tance of  this  we  shall  learn  hereafter.  While  the  con- 
nection of  touch  with  movement  is  most  intimate,  that 
of  sight  is  most  acute  and  varied.  The  eyes  are  con- 
stantly on  the  lookout  for  sensation.  Instead  of  a 
mirror  waiting  for  impressions,  like  the  lower  senses, 
they  are  a dark  lantern  rapidly  moving  and  focusing 
here  and  there.  The  more  mobile  the  sense  organ,  the 
more  controllable  the  qualities  had  from  it,  and  the 
more  they  can  be  reproduced  at  will. 

Besides  increase  of  mobility,  we  have  increase  of 
discriminating  capacity.  The  lower  organs  receive  the 
stimulus  en  masse.  The  higher  ones  are  tools  for 
breaking  it  up  into  different  elements  and  receiving 
each  separately.  Consider,  for  example,  the  eye  with 
3 


50 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


its  subsidiary  mechanism  for  excluding  most  stimuli 
and  thus  narrowing  them  down  to  a single  class,  and 
then  all  the  nerve  structures  for  adaptation  to  different 
rates  and  intensities  of  vibration. 

On  account  of  the  fundamental  character  of  touch, 
we  shall  begin  our  special  studies  of  sensation  with  it, 
and,  following  the  order  laid  down  under  the  general 
consideration  of  sensation,  shall  take  up:  1.  The  phys- 
ical stimulus;  2.  The  physiological  stimulus;  3.  The 
conscious  sensation. 

On  account  of  the  connection  of  contact  sensations 
with  muscular  we  shall  consider  this  subject  under  the 
following  heads  : I.  Passive  touch,  or  touch  proper,  as 
separate  from  muscular  activity;  II.  Muscular  sensa- 
tions; III.  Active  touch,  the  union  of  the  two  pre- 
vious. * 

§ 3.  Touch. 

I.  Passive  Touch. 

1.  The  Physical  Stimulus.  — This  is  mechanical 
pressure;  consequently  all  bodies  possessing  weight, 
whether  solids,  liquids,  or  gases,  are  capable,  under 
proper  conditions,  of  exciting  sensations  of  contact. 
Not  all  contact,  however,  with  external  bodies  excites 
sensation.  The  pressure  must  reach  a certain  degree, 
known  as  its  threshold  value  ; for  over  this  threshold , 
as  it  were,  any  stimulus  must  pass  to  enter  into  con- 
sciousness. This  value  varies  with  different  parts  of 
the  body ; the  smallest  amount  appreciable  is  .002 
grammes,  by  the  cheek  and  back  of  hand.  Upon  the 
heel  a pressure  equal  to  one  gram  is  required  for  feel- 
ing. Change  of  stimulus  is  also  necessary,  or  at  least 
contrast.  If  the  hand  be  plunged  into  a liquid  at  rest 
no  contact  sensation  is  felt  except  at  the  margin ; or 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


51 


if  it  be  evenly  compressed  by  a solid,  as  paraffine,  only 
the  boundary  is  felt. 

2.  Physiological  Stimulus , or  Organ. — This  is  the 
skin  of  the  whole  body  and  the  openings  of  the  various 
membranes.  Touch  is  classified  as  a special  sense,  be- 
cause in  the  true  skin,  beneath  the  cuticle,  exist  certain 
peculiar  endings  of  the  nerves  in  raised  organs,  called 
papillae,  although  their  stimulation  is  not  always  neces- 
sary for  the  existence  of  any  contact  sensation.  The 
tip  of  the  tongue  and  the  ends  of  the  fingers,  being 
especially  well  supplied  with  the  papillae,  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  specific  organs  of  contact. 

3.  Sensations  of  Touch.  — These  are  (1)  sensations 
of  pressure,  the  objective  cause  being  the  weight  of 
some  body.  A qualitative  difference  in  pressure  sen- 
sations constitutes  what  we  may  call  (2)  place  sensations. 

(1.)  Pressure  Sensations. — These  are  excited  when- 
ever any  ponderable  body  is  laid  upon  some  portion  of 
the  skin  at  rest — a condition  which  is  rarely  perfectly 
fulfilled,  as  the  muscles  are  generally  brought  into  ac- 
tion to  support  and  test  the  weight.  It  is  a character- 
istic of  pressure  sensation  that  not  every  change  of 
weight  is  felt.  It  is  found  that  if  a given  weight 
affects  the  hand  it  must  be  increased  by  at  least  one 
thirteenth  before  the  difference  of  pressure  is  felt,  no 
matter  how  slight  or  strong  be  the  intensity  of  the  ex- 
isting sensation.  That  is  to  say,  if  the  objective  stim- 
ulus be  1 gram,  ^ of  a gram  must  be  added  for  any 
new  sensation  to  result ; if  it  be  30  pounds,  2-^-  pounds 
must  be  added,  or  no  change  of  intensity  in  the  feeling 
appears.  This  difference  of  stimulus,  necessary  to 
change  of  sensation,  is  called  the  difference  threshold , 
and  for  pressure  sensations  is  stated  at  13:14. 


52 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Weber's  Law. — Anticipating  the  study  of  the  other 
senses,  it  may  be  well  to  state  here  that  some  ratio, 
although  quantitatively  different,  is  believed  to  exist 
for  every  sense.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  true  of  every 
sense  that  not  every  change  in  objective  stimulus  oc- 
casions a change  in  subjective  sensation,  but  that  every 
change  in  stimulus  must  bear  a certain  definite  ratio 
(varying  in  the  different  senses)  to  the  already  existing 
stimulus  before  the  intensity  of  the  sensation,  as  a con- 
scious state,  changes.  Differently  stated,  not  absolute 
stimuli  are  felt,  but  only  relative.  This  law  is  often 
called  Weber's  law,  after  its  discoverer,  and  is  stated 
as  follows : The  intensity  of  one  sensation  changes  from 
that  of  the  preceding  sensation , when  the  stimulus  of 
the  former  changes  in  a fixed  ratio  to  that  of  the  latter. 
This  ratio  of  change  is  Tg-  in  the  case  of  passive  touch, 
as  just  seen  ; in  active  touch  it  is  that  the  addi- 
tion of  a weight  Ar  as  great  as  the  existing  weight  will 
change  the  sensation. 

Methods  of  Research. — The  determination  of  this  law 
evidently  falls  under  the  head  of  experimental  psy- 
chology, and,  as  illustrating  the  methods  of  this,  it  may 
be  well  briefly  to  mention  the  ways  in  which  Weber’s 
law  has  been  established. 

(i.)  The  Method  of  Right  and  Wrong  Cases. — Here 
two  weights  are  used,  one  slightly  heavier  than  the 
other,  and  the  person  experimented  upon  is  required 
to  tell  from  touch  alone  which  is  the  heavier,  and  the 
process  is  repeated  a large  number  of  times  with  the 
same  weights.  It  is  evident  that  if  the  difference  be- 
tween the  two  weights  is  less  than  the  real  difference 
threshold , there  will  be  no  basis  for  judgment,  and  the 
number  of  right  and  wrong  cases,  or  guesses,  will  be 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


53 


about  evenly  divided.  Just  in  the  degree  in  which  the 
difference  approaches  the  true  ratio  will  the  percent- 
age of  right  cases  increase,  and  when  the  ratio  is  made 
too  large,  about  all  the  cases  will  be  correctly  judged. 

(ii.)  Method  of  Just  Perceptible  Differences. — A cer- 
tain weight  is  laid  on  the  hand.  This  is  slightly  in- 
creased. Probably  no  difference  of  sensation  is  felt. 
But  more  and  more  weight  is  added  until  the  sensation 
does  increase  in  intensity.  This  is  repeated  again  and 
again,  and  the  average  difference  taken  as  the  basis  for 
calculating  the  proper  ratio. 

(in.)  Method  of  Average  Error. — A certain  weight 
is  put  on  the  hand,  and  the  person  experimented  upon 
is  required  to  tell  when  another  weight  equals  this. 
This  is  repeated  a large  number  of  times.  Each  time 
there  will  be  a slight  error,  either  positive  or  negative  ; 
that  is,  the  weight  supposed  to  be  equal  will,  as  mat- 
ter of  fact,  be  greater  or  less.  The  exact  amount  of 
error  is  noticed  each  time,  and  their  average  beino’  taken 
will  approach  the  normal  perceptible  difference. 

Interpretations  of  the  Law. — The  law  has  been  in- 
terpreted physiologically,  psycho-physically,  and  psy- 
chologically. 

(a.)  Physiological  Interpretation. — This  holds  that 
the  law  is  due  to  the  nature  of  nerve-action.  It  holds 
that  the  sensation,  as  a conscious  state,  is  directly  pro- 
portional to  the  physiological  stimulus,  but  that  the 
physiological  stimulus,  owing  to  unknown  causes,  is  not 
directly  proportional  to  the  physical  stimulus,  but  in- 
creases more  slowly  than  it. 

(b.)  Psycho-physical. — This  holds  that  the  law  ex- 
presses the  relations  which  exist  between  the  physical 
nervous  stimulus,  and  the  psychical  reaction  to  it,  or  the 


51 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


relations  which  exist  between  body  and  soul.  Hence, 
Weber’s  law  is  often  called  the  psycho-physical  law. 
Fechner,  who  has  made  very  careful  and  complete  ex- 
periments, has  adopted  this  view,  and  states  the  law  in 
mathematical  form  as  follows : The  intensity  of  the 
sensation  varies  with  the  logarithm  of  the  stimulus. 
This  statement  is  called  Fechner’s  law,  but  is  not  gen- 
erally accepted. 

(c.)  Psychological.  — This  holds  that  the  law  ex- 
presses neither  the  relation  which  the  physiological 
stimulus  holds  to  the  physical,  nor  that  with  which  the 
psychical  responds  to  the  nervous  stimulus,  but  a dis- 
tinction between  the  sensation  itself  and  our  apprecia- 
tion of  it:  that  is,  we  appreciate  any  psychical  state  not 
by  what  it  absolutely  is,  but  what  it  is  in  reference  to 
some  other  psychical  state  with  which  we  compare  it. 
We  have  no  absolute  measure  for  the  intensity  of  a sen- 
sation, but  measure  it  by  comparing  it  with  the  sensation 
which  immediately  preceded  it.  The  proper  interpre- 
tation has  not  yet  been  finally  decided  upon,  and  a fur- 
ther discussion  would  lead  us  beyond  our  proper  limits. 
We  return  from  this  digression  to  a study  of 

(2.)  Place  Sensations. — This  expression  must  not  be 
taken  to  mean  that  we  have  any  sensations  of  place  as 
such.  The  reference  of  a sensation  to  a given  object 
or  position  is  a further  act  of  mind,  to  be  studied  under 
the  head  of  perception.  The  phrase  means  simply  that 
there  exists  a difference  in  the  quality  of  the  sensations 
corresponding  to  differences  in  the  parts  of  the  body 
whence  they  originate.  What  the  exact  nature  of  this 
difference  is  we  do  not  know  ; we  know,  however,  that 
it  must  exist,  or  there  would  be  no  basis  for  the  mind 
to  act  upon  in  referring  a sensation  to  one  position 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


55 


rather  than  to  another  This  difference  is  called  the  local 
sign.  The  local  sign,  in  other  words,  is  that  peculiarity 
of  the  sensation  which  differentiates  a sensation  com- 
ing, say,  from  the  extreme  tip  of  the  thumb  of  the  left 
hand,  from  one  of  the  same  intensity  and  otherwise  of 
the  same  quality  coming  from  a similar  part  of  the 
right  hand.  This  peculiarity  the  mind  uses  as  a sign 
of  the  part  affected,  and  thus  learns  to  localize  impres- 
sions. 

Discriminating  Power.  — The  sensation  of  pressure 
arises  when  certain  definite  portions,  called.  “ pressure 
spots,”  are  stimulated.  If  the  skin  is  touched  by  two 
objects,  as  blunted  points  of  a compass,  several  pressure 
spots  are  stimulated  by  each  point.  Each  group  of  spots 
so  excited  arouses  a sensation  with  its  own  peculiar  qual- 
ity— its  “ local  sign.”  If  the  two  sensations  thus  called 
forth  are  sufficiently  differentiated  in  quality,  they  are 
located  as  two  distinct  points.  Otherwise  only  one  point 
is  reported.  The  distance  by  which  the  two  compass 
points  must  be  separated  in  order  to  be  located  as  two  de- 
pends partly  on  the  anatomy  of  the  portion  (the  distri- 
bution of  spots)  and  partly  on  exercise  in  discrimination. 
The  tongue  and  finger  tip  far  exceed  in  discriminating 
power  the  back  or  upper  leg  with  the  greatest  amount  of 
practice ; but  practice  and  careful  selection  of  pressure 
spots  greatly  increase  the  original  fineness.  Practice 
on  one  hand  increases  the  power  to  define  separate 
points  on  the  other  hand. 

Mobility  and  Local  Discrimination. — It  is  found,  as  a 
general  thing,  that  discriminative  sensibility  is  a function 
of  the  mobility  of  the  part.  The  finest  differences  are  felt 
by  those  portions  of  the  body  most  often  in  motion,  while 
those  parts  which  are  relatively  non-sensitive,  like  the 


56 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


middle  of  the  back,  are  just  those  parts  of  the  body  which 
are  most  fixed.  This  introduces  us  to  the  subject  of 

Meaning  of  Muscular  Sensation.  — The  nature  of 
muscular  sensation  is  one  of  the  most  disputed  points 
in  the  psychology  of  sensation.  As  here  used,  it 
means  all  sensations  that  come  from,  or  have  to  do 
with,  the  voluntary  movements  of  the  bodj7.  It  does 
not  necessarily  mean  sensations  arising  from  the  mus- 
cles in  the  same  sense  that  visual  sensations  come  from 
the  retina,  or  touch  sensations  from  pressure  spots.  Sen- 
sory nerves  have  been  discovered  ending  in  the  muscles, 
and  it  is  probable  that  we  do  have  specific  muscular  sen- 
sations; but  of  their  nature  or  importance  very  little  is 
known.  It  is  possible  that  under  usual  circumstances 
we  are  conscious  of  them  only  as  fused  into  our  organic 
sensations.  It  is  certain  that  sensations  of  strain  and. 
effort  such  as  we  get  when  we  have  to  lift  a load  are 
not  wholly  muscular  sensations  in  the  narrow  sense. 

The  Innervation  Theory. — No  voluntary  movement 
can  take  place,  of  course,  unless  there  is  a current  of 
nerve  energy  going  out  from  the  brain  to  the  muscles  in 
question.  It  is  supposed  by  some  that  we  have  a feeling 
(called  innervation  feeling)  of  this  outgoing  current.  A 
piano-player,  for  example,  has  constantly,  just  before  he 
strikes  the  keys,  a feeling  of  the  amount  of  energy  he  is 
putting  forth ; of  the  amount  of  muscular  effort  to  be 
used  in  a given  movement  of  the  piece  as  a whole,  and 
of  the  delicate  shadings  required  from  passage  to  pas- 
sage and  note  to  note.  The  innervationists  claim  that 
this  feeling  of  the  activity  required  is  a feeling  of  the 
output  of  cerebral  energy  through  the  motor  nerves. 

The  Afferent  Theory.  — The  rival  hypothesis  holds 
that  muscular  sensations  are,  like  all  other  sensations, 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


57 


passive.  They  are  not  feelings  of  action,  but  of  the 
changes  produced  by  action.  They  arise,  not  centrally 
from  the  putting  forth  of  energy,  but,  like  those  of  press- 
ure and  temperature,  in  the  periphery,  and  are  then  re- 
ported by  afferent  nerves  to  the  brain.  They  are  not  so 
much  muscular  sensations  as  sensations  produced  by  the 
movement  and  tension  of  the  muscles,  joint  surfaces,  lig- 
aments, etc.,  upon  the  ordinary  organs  of  contact. 

Illustration. — This  theory  may  be  illustrated  bya  quo- 
tation from  Ferrier,  who,  with  James,  is  its  chief  uphold- 
er : “ If  the  reader  will  extend  his  right  arm  and  hold  his 
forefinger  in  the  position  actually  required  for  pulling  the 
trigger  of  a pistol,  he  may,  without  actually  moving  his  fin- 
ger,but  by  simply  making  believe, experience  a conscious- 
ness of  energy  put  forth.  If  the  reader  will  again  perform 
the  experiment  and  pay  careful  attention  to  the  condi- 
tion of  his  respiration,  he  will  observe  that  his  conscious- 
ness of  effort  coincides  with  a fixation  of  the  muscles  of 
his  chest,  and  that  in  proportion  to  the  amount  of  energy 
he  feels  he  is  putting  forth  he  is  keeping  his  glottis  closed 
and  actively  contracting  his  respiratory  muscles.  Let 
him  place  his  finger  as  before,  and  continue  breathing  all 
the  time,  and  he  will  find  that,  however  much  he  may  di- 
rect his  attention  to  his  finger,  he  will  experience  not  the 
slightest  trace  of  consciousness  of  effort  until  he  has  actu- 
ally moved  the  finger  itself,  and  then  it  is  referred  local- 
ly to  the  muscles  themselves.”  In  other  words,  the  con- 
sciousness of  effort  is  really  a consciousness  of  the  pull 
and  push  of  the  muscles — either  of  the  muscles  of  the 
chest  connected  with  breathing  or  of  the  part  actually 
moved.  James  lays  great  emphasis  also  upon  the  sensa- 
tions produced  at  the  joints  by  the  rubbing  of  one  surface 
against  the  other.  As  there  is  no  direct  introspective 
3* 


58 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


evidence  for  the  innervation  theory,  as  the  afferent  the- 
ory puts  muscular  sensation  under  the  same  principles  as 
the  rest  of  our  sensations,  and  as  it  seems  to  account  for 
all  the  facts  of  the  case,  we  give  it  the  preference. 

Importance  of  Muscular  Sensation. — Remembering, 
then,  that  we  mean  by  muscular  sensations  not  wholly 
the  sensations  of  the  muscles,  but  also  sensations  pro- 
duced by  the  movements  of  muscles,  we  may  go  on  to 
note  their  importance.  In  the  first  place,  they  inform 
us  of  our  own  movements,  and  thus  give  us  an  ex- 
tremely important  information.  Persons  suffering  in 
such  a way  that  they  lose  these  sensations  cannot  tell 
what  they  are  doing  excepting  as  they  keep  their  eyes 
on  their  limbs  as  they  move  them.  Consciousness  of 
movement  is  also  extremely  important  in  differentiat- 
ing our  own  body  from  other  objects.  It  makes,  also, 
the  direct  basis  of  volitional  action.  We  are  not  con- 
scious of  our  muscular  structure,  but  we  are  conscious 
of  how  it  feels  to  move  a certain  muscle,  and  this  feel  is 
our  guide  in  performing  the  act.  By  this  control  of  our 
movements  we  are  enabled  to  control  indirectly  our  other 
sensations.  We  can  get  the  eye  or  the  ear  in  position  to 
receive  sensations,  instead  of  passively  waiting  for  them. 

III.  Active  Touch. 

In  normal  life  sensations  of  contact  proper  are  al- 
ways accompanied  by  muscular  sensations.  It  is  only 
in  disordered  or  abnormal  conditions  that  they  can  be 
separated.  This  union  has  the  following  advantages: 

1.  It  greatly  multiplies  the  number  of  impressions 
which  can  be  had  in  a given  time,  thus  abbreviating 
all  touch  processes.  2.  It  renders  it  possible  to  bring 
the  object  to  be  touched  into  contact  with  the  most 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


59 


sensitive  part  of  the  organ,  thus  sharpening  the  sensa- 
tion. 3.  It  occasions  a rapid  succession  of  impressions, 
thus  heightening  the  contrast  of  those  which  are  un- 
like,  and  rendering  them  more  distinct.  Active  touch 
can  thus  discriminate  differences  of  Ad  while  passive 
touch  is  limited  to  Ad 

Ideas  Got  through  Active  Touch. — The  union  of  con- 
tact and  muscular  sensations,  when  interpreted  by  the 
mental  processes,  constitutes  the  basis  of  the  following 
ideas.  (1.)  The  hardness  or  softness  of  a body.  This 
is  not  given  by  mere  weight  sensations.  It  is  discov- 
ered only  by  running  the  hand  over  the  body,  com- 
pressing, moulding  it,  etc.  (2.)  The  elasticity  or  inertia 
of  the  body.  (3.)  The  roughness,  smoothness,  etc.,  of 
the  body.  When  the  hand  is  moving  and  touches  suc- 
cessive points,  the  body  is  judged  coarse  or  rough. 
When  the  muscular  sensations  are  united  with  con- 
tinuous contact  sensations  it  is  judged  to  be  fine  or 
smooth.  All  these  qualities  as  referred  to  bodies  are  not 
sensations  proper,  but  judgments  made  on  the  basis  of 
sensations. 

The  student  will  observe  that  a large  number  of  sen- 
sations originating  in  the  skin  are  not  to  be  properly 
classed  with  touch  feelings.  Such  are  heat  and  cold, 
tingling,  itching,  numbness,  etc. 

§ 4.  The  Sense  of  Smell. 

I.  Physical  Stimulus. — Heat,  so  far  as  known,  does 
not  occasion  this  sensation.  Whether  electricity  and 
mechanical  pressure  do  so  is  disputed.  The  specific 
stimulus  is  what  we  call  physical  odor.  Just  what 
properties  in  a body  make  it  odorous  are  not  known. 
The  substance,  however,  must  be  capable  of  assuming  a 


60 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


gaseous  form.  Neither  solids  nor  liquids,  unless  vola- 
tizable,  excite  sensation.  Of  some  substances  an  ex- 
ceedingly small  amount  suffices.  Of  musk,  ^-tnnjTnrtr  of 
a milligramme  is  enough. 

II.  Organ.  — This  is  the  ending  of  the  olfactory 
nerve  found  in  the  mucous  membrane  of  the  upper 
and  back  parts  of  the  nostrils.  Touching  the  mode  of 
excitation,  nothing  is  known  except  that  it  is  some 
mode  of  chemical  action,  and  that  no  sensation  results 
if  the  particles  remain  stationary. 

III.  The  Sensation  Itself. — The  difference  threshold, 
or  the  ratio  of  the  discriminative  sensibility  of  the 
sense,  has  never  been  satisfactorily  determined.  There 
is  no  satisfactory  classification  of  odors.  The  same 
substance  occasions  various  odors  to  different  persons 
and  to  the  same  person  at  different  times.  Certain 
sensations,  ordinarily  called  those  of  smell,  may,  how- 
ever, be  excluded;  such  are  sharp,  pungent  sensations, 
originating  from  snuff,  etc.  These  are  properly  feel- 
ings of  mechanical  irritation.  So-called  fresh  and 
close  smells  are  due  rather  to  sensations  excited  in  the 
lungs  than  to  stimulation  of  the  nostrils,  and  hence  are 
organic  in  character.  Disgust  is  an  alimentary  rather 
than  olfactory  sensation. 

Connection  with  Organic  Feelings. — Odor  sensations 
have  a close  connection  with  organic,  and  are  related 
rather  to  the  emotional  side  of  our  nature  than  to  our 
cognitive.  Psychologically,  the  best  classification  of 
odors  is,  therefore,  into  agreeable  and  disagreeable,  as 
this  frankly  recognizes  their  subjective  character.  By 
reason  of  its  organic  connection,  smell  is  of  great  im- 
portance in  regulating  animal  life.  As  Bidder  says, 
it  is  placed  at  the  entrance  of  the  respiratory  organs, 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


61 


like  a watchman.  What  is  disagreeable  in  odor  is  re- 
jected from  the  system ; with  the  sense  of  taste  it 
serves  as  a guardian  over  the  digestive  organs,  prevent- 
ing the  entrance  of  whatever  might  be  harmful. 

Connection  with  Appetite. — By  reason  of  its  connec- 
tion with  feeling  the  sense  of  smell  awakens  desire  and 
repulsion  for  and  against  the  substances  which  are 
odorous.  Smells  occasion  all  sorts  of  impulses  and 
longings;  some  thirst,  others  hunger,  others  sexual. 
This  fact  appears  more  plainly  in  animals  than  in  us ; 
as  in  them  smell  is  most  closely  connected  with  in- 
stinct. To  them  it  serves  as  a means  of  preserving 
life  by  teaching  to  find  friend,  avoid  foe,  and  discover 
food,  and  by  directing  to  their  mates.  Hence  in  ani- 
mals the  centre  in  the  brain  for  the  sense  of  smell  is 
often  its  predominating  part,  while  in  man  it  is  re- 
duced to  insignificant  proportions.  In  man  this  sense 
is  overlaid  by  the  intellectual  processes;  if  a man 
wishes  to  find  another  man  he  uses  none  of  his  senses, 
but  reflects  upon  the  place  where  he  is  most  likely  to 
be  found.  The  dog  simply  uses  his  sense  of  smell, 
and  follows  scent. 


5.  Taste. 


I.  Physical  Stimulus.-—  Both  electricity  and  me- 
chanical pressure  occasion  gustatory  sensation.  If  the 
tongue  be  electrically  stimulated  a sour  taste  is  felt  at 
the  anode  and  an  alkaline  at  the  cathode.  If  pressure 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  back  of  the  tongue  a bit- 
ter taste  arises ; if  it  be  rapidly  tapped,  a sour.  The 
specific  stimulus,  however,  is  that  quality  known  as  sa- 
pidity. Only  bodies  in  a liquid  condition  are  sapid. 
Solids  can  be  tasted  only  in  a crystallized,  and  hence 


62 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


soluble,  form.  The  threshold  value  for  taste  varies 
with  different  substances.  One  part  of  sulphuric  acid 
in  a million  parts  of  water  can  be  tasted,  while  one 
eightieth  of  sugar  is  required. 

II.  Organ. — Taste  has  been  ascribed  to  all  portions 
of  the  mouth  from  the  lips  to  the  stomach,  but  is  proper- 
ly confined  to  those  portions  of  the  tongue  and  soft  pal- 
ate furnished  with  taste-buds.  Experiments  have  been 
directed  towards  ascertaining  whether  certain  tastes 
are  confined  or  not  to  certain  portions  of  the  organ. 
The  result  is  somewhat  in  doubt,  but  it  is  generally 
believed  that  bitter  is  best  tasted  on  the  soft  palate 
and  back  of  the  tongue,  and  sweet  and  sour  on  the  tip. 

III.  The  Sensation  Itself.  — The  classification  of 
tastes  is  rendered  difficult  by  the  same  causes  operative 
in  the  case  of  smell — they  can  be  reduced  to  four,  how- 
ever : sweet,  sour,  bitter,  and  salt.  Pungent  tastes 
must  be  excluded;  as  must  also  alkaline,  astringent, 
and  metallic  tastes,  which  seem  to  be  combinations  of 
touch,  taste,  and  smell.  Many  so-called  tastes,  like 
that  of  onions,  are  properly  odors.  Nausea  is  an  or- 
ganic sensation.  The  specific  taste  that  distinguishes 
one  body  from  another,  as  an  apple  from  an  orange,  is 
not  taste  proper,  but  a combination  of  various  sensory 
properties. 

Organic  Connection. — Taste  is  rather  an  outpost  of 
the  whole  system,  for  enabling  it  to  assimilate  the  ben- 
eficial and  reject  the  harmful,  than  a source  of  special 
cognitions.  Psychologically,  it  hardly  ranks  as  high 
as  smell,  for  the  associative  power  of  the  latter  — as 
the  odor  of  new -mown  hay,  or  of  a sniff  of  salt  wa- 
ter— is  very  considerable.  Odors  in  general  seem  to 
be  associated  with  higher  moods  and  states,  of  which 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


63 


fact  the  poets  have  availed  themselves.  Smell  also  can 
discriminate  successive  odors  much  better  than  taste. 
Taste,  however,  is  capable  of  quite  high  specific  cul- 
tivation, as  is  seen  in  epicures  and  professional  wine 
and  tea  tasters,  etc. 

§ 6.  Sense  of  Hearing. 

I.  Physical  Stimulus.  — Electricity  and  mechanical 
pressure  both  act  as  stimuli : an  example  of  the  latter  is 
found  in  the  sensations  of  roaring,  etc.,  due  probably  to 
unusual  pressure  of  the  blood-vessels.  The  specific  stim- 
uli are  the  vibrations  of  some  elastic  ponderable  medium, 
generally  air,  known  as  physical  sound.  These  vibra- 
tions must  be  within  the  limits  of  from,  say,  twenty  to 
forty  thousand  per  second.  As  to  the  lower  limit  of  in- 
tensity, or  threshold  value,  this  sense  seems  to  be  most 
sensitive  of  all : a vibration  of  the  amplitude  of  .0000-4 
millimetre  has  sufficient  energy  to  excite  sensation.  A 
difference  of  one  third  of  a vibration  will  make  a percep- 
tible change  in  the  sensation  of  a highly  cultivated  ear. 

II.  Organ.  — The  organ  is  the  ear,  consisting  of  ex- 
ternal, middle,  and  internal  portions.  The  former  two 
serve  only  as  an  apparatus  for  condensing  and  trans- 
mitting vibrations.  The  internal  ear  possesses  the 
nerve-endings,  exceedingly  complex,  for  transforming 
the  physical  into  the  physiological  stimulus.  The  ap- 
paratus especially  fitted  for  this  is  generally  said  to 
be  the  basilar  layer  of  the  organs  of  Corti.  This  is 
thought  to  be  a complicated  series  of  minute  stretched 
cords,  like  those  of  a harp;  each  of  which  possesses, 
like  every  vibrating  medium,  a certain  definite  rate  of 
vibration,  depending  on  its  length  and  tension.  Each 
of  these  is,  accordingly,  attuned  to  some  mode  of  ex- 


64: 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ternal  vibration  to  which  it  responds.  It  thus  forms 
an  organ  for  all  possible  degrees  of  pitch.  Whenever 
any  external  medium  propagates  vibrations  of  a cer- 
tain rate  that  cord  of  this  layer  which  has  the  same 
rate  selects  it,  and  responds  to  it.  These  vibrations 
are  then  conveyed  to  the  brain  by  means  of  the  audi- 
tory nerve. 

III.  The  Sensation  Itself. — There  are  certain  distinc- 
tions in  the  sounds  which  psychically  result  from  these 
transmitted  vibrations,  which  render  possible  a classi- 
fied treatment  of  them.  Sounds  vary  (1)  in  intensity; 
(2)  in  pitch;  (3)  in  tone- color,  or  quality.  Sounds, 
that  is  to  say,  are  either  loud  or  soft,  high  or  low, 
noises  or  tones. 

1.  Intensity.- — The  difference  threshold  for  hearing 
is  placed  at  one  third — that  is,  it  is  found  that  an  exist- 
ing sound  must  be  increased  one  third  before  difference 
of  intensity  is  perceptible.  The  intensity  of  a sensa- 
tion corresponds  to  the  amplitude  of  the  vibration 
which  occasions  it.  A vibration  is  a periodic  motion, 
or  one  which  returns  after  equal  intervals  of  time  to 
the  same  phase  or  state  of  motion.  It  possesses,  ac- 
cordingly, breadth  or  amplitude ; the  moving  particle 
swings  a certain  distance  to  and  fro  from  its  place  of 
rest.  The  wider  swing  shows  the  greater  energy  of 
the  vibrating  particle,  and,  consequently,  affects  the 
nerve  with  greater  force,  and  results  in  a more  intense 
or  louder  sound.  Hence  the  decrease  of  the  loudness 
of  sound  with  increase  of  distance  from  the  sounding 
body.  On  the  one  hand,  the  waves  extend  in  all  di- 
rections in  space,  so  that  fewer  of  them  reach  the  ear, 
and,  on  the  other,  these  few  are  lessened  in  amplitude 
by  the  friction  of  resisting  mediums. 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


65 


2.  Pitch.  — Vibrations,  or  periodic  motions,  possess 
rate  as  well  as  amplitude.  That  is,  the  period  of  vibra- 
tion lasts  a certain  time ; the  vibrating  particle  will 
return  from  one  phase  of  motion  to  the  same  again  a 
certain  number  of  times  per  second.  The  greater  the 
rate,  i.  e.,  the  more  rapid  the  swing,  the  higher  is  the 
pitch  of  the  resulting  sensation.  The  lowest  tone 
which  one  can  hear  is  that  due  to  eighteen  vibrations 
per  second,  like  the  deepest  tones  of  the  organ.  The 
highest  comes  from  forty  thousand  per  second,  and 
then  passes  into  a whizzing  feeling.  This  limitation 
is,  so  far  as  we  know,  due  merely  to  the  structure  of 
the  nerve  organ. 

The  Scale  of  Pitch. — There  is  also  a specific  connec- 
tion between  certain  ratios  in  the  rates  of  vibration 
and  certain  peculiar  sensations  of  tone,  which  occasions 
what  we  call  the  octave.  Certain  tones  make  the  same 
emotional  effect  upon  us;  they  feel  alike,  or  harmo- 
nize, although  differing  in  pitch.  These  tones,  thus  har- 
monizing with  each  other,  are  found  to  repeat  them- 
selves at  various  intervals  through  the  series  of  pitch. 
This  repetition  of  tones  within  the  octave  leads  to  class- 
ifying every  octave  as  a scale  of  tones,  and  this  scale  is 
made  the  basis  of  musical  composition,  oral  and  instru- 
mental. The  tones  within  the  scale  may  be  variously 
divided — as  by  the  Greeks,  Arabians,  and  ourselves — 
but  the  existence  of  the  scale  is  a unique  psychological 
fact  in  no  way  conventional.  The  range  of  the  mind 
in  discriminating  pitch  seems  to  be  about  eleven  oc- 
taves, though  only  seven  are  commonly  employed  in 
music. 

Pelaiion  of  the  Octave  to  Physical  Vibrations. — 
Long  after  the  peculiar  psychological  fact  of  the  regu- 


66 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


lar  repetition  of  emotional  quality  of  tones  at  certain 
intervals  had  been  used  in  music,  it  was  discovered 
that  this  repetition,  or  octave,  bears  a definite  relation 
to  certain  properties  of  the  rates  of  vibration.  It  was 
found  that  the  recurrent  interval  constituting  the  oc- 
tave corresponds  to  certain  ratios  in  the  physical  vibra- 
tions, so  that  the  tone  at  the  upper  end  of  the  scale  is 
produced  by  just  twice  as  rapid  a rate  as  the  one  at  the 
lower  end,  and  that  the  intermediate  tones  bear  certain 
definite  numerical  relations  to  each  other,  expressed  by 
such  terms  as  thirds,  fifths,  etc. 

3.  Timbre , or  Tone-color. — Vibrations  possess  form, 
as  well  as  rate  and  width.  To  this  property  of  the 
stimulus  corresponds  that  difference  in  tiie  sensation 
which  serves  as  the  basis  of  the  discrimination  of  the 
sound  of  one  body  from  that  of  another,  aside  from  its 
intensity  or  pitch — the  difference  of  an  organ  from  a 
violin,  and  both  from  the  human  voice.  Such  sensa- 
tions are  not  simple,  but  composite,  and  are  made  up  of 
a so-called  fundamental  tone,  and  other parii$al  tones, 
which  combine  with  it  and  give  it  its  peculiar  quality. 
The  tone  given  by  a tuning-fork  is  simple;  all  others 
are  complex,  and  may  be  analyzed  into  one  tone,  cor- 
responding to  that  of  a tuning-fork,  and  others  which 
bear  certain  relations  to  it — harmonious  if  it  is  music, 
unharmonious  if  it  is  noise.  The  subordinate  tones 
are  called  partial,  or  under  and  over  tones. 

Musical  Tones.  — When  various  simple  tones  com- 
bine in  such  a way  that  the  various  phases  of  their  re- 
spective vibrations  strengthen  and  weaken  one  another 
regularly,  we  have  what  is  termed  (from  the  German) 
a clang.  What  are  ordinarily  called  musical  notes  are 
in  reality  such  composite  tones.  Several  ‘clangs’  may 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


67 


now  sound  together,  and  the  process  of  compound- 
ing of  partials  with  a fundamental  will  be  repeated, 
only  in  this  case  the  several  fundamentals  will  have 
to  be  adjusted  to  one  another,  as  well  as  the  partials 
to  the  fundamentals  and  to  one  another.  If  the  ad- 
justment succeeds,  if  there  are  regular  coincidences 
and  contrasts,  we  have  a chord  ; a discord  when  the 
vibrations  cut  and  chop  one  another  up.  Works  on 
physics  will  give  the  principles  of  these  combinations. 

Noise  and  Musical  Sound. — Musical  sound  has  al- 
ready been  spoken  of  as  corresponding  to  an  harmonious 
relation  of  partial  tones  to  the  fundamental,  while  noise 
corresponds  to  a non-liarmonious.  According  to  an- 
other theory,  however,  noise  and  musical  sound  ai’e 
two  different  sorts  of  sensation,  each  being  unique 
and  occasioned  through  a different  set  of  nerves.  Evi- 
dence of  this  theory  is  thought  to  be  found  in  the  fact 
that  capacity  for  appreciating  musical  discriminations 
and  those  of  noises  bear  no  relation  to  each  other.  It 
is  probable  that  there  is  an  element  of  truth  in  each 
theory,  and  that,  in  a general  way,  noise  corresponds 
to  irregularity,  however  produced,  and  musical  tone  to 
regularity. 

Harmony.  — Certain  tones,  when  heard  together, 
give  a pleasing  result,  forming  a chord  or  consonance ; 
others  are  displeasing,  and  are  called  dissonant.  Psy- 
chologically this  is  a state  of  emotion,  whose  consider- 
tion  falls  under  the  head  of  aesthetic  feeling.  Yet 
there  are  found  to  exist  certain  physical  and  physio- 
logical processes  constituting  its  basis.  (1.)  Physical : 
Such  vibrations  as  are  in  simple  multiple  ratios  to  each 
other  occasion  harmony  of  sound.  Here  the  tones  reg- 
ularly strengthen  and  weaken  each  other;  others  come 


68 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


in  conflict  irregularly  and  interfere  with  each  other. 
(2.)  Physiological:  All  irregular  and  interrupted  nerv- 
ous activity  seems  to  occasion  pain.  For  the  best 
nervous  action,  it  is  believed  that  there  must  be  regu- 
lar alternations  of  rest  and  activity.  Regular  vibra- 
tions fulfil  these  conditions ; irregular  prevent  them. 
The  unpleasantness  of  discords  would  then  correspond 
to  the  painful  impression  due  to  the  affection  of  the 
visual  organs  by  a flickering  light. 

§ 7.  Sense  of  Sight. 

I.  Physical  Stimulus. — Electrical  stimulus  and  me- 
chanical pressure  occasion  sensations  of  light.  The  lat- 
ter fact  may  be  verified  by  simply  pressing  upon  the  eye- 
ball. To  fliis  principle  are  due  the  facts  that  we  “ see 
stars”  when  we  hit  the  head  a severe  blow,  and  that 
the  patient  whose  optic  nerve  is  severed  sees  a flash 
of  light.  The  specific  stimuli,  however,  are  the  vibra- 
tions of  a hypothetical,  imponderable,  absolutely  elastic 
medium,  ether.  Its  vibrations  occur  within  the  limits 
of  three  hundred  and  ninety-two  billions  per  second, 
resulting  in  sensations  of  red,  and  seven  hundred  and 
eighty-five  billions,  in  sensations  of  violet.  Below 
they  are  felt  as  heat  only;  above,  they  are  known  only 
indirectly. 

II.  Organ. — The  organ  is  the  eye.  This  is  an  ap- 
paratus similar  to  a camera  obscura.  The  essential 
portion  is  found  where  the  optic  nerve,  entering,  spreads 
itself  as  a fine  network,  called  the  retina,  over  the  back 
of  the  organ.  The  retina  is  composed  of  a series  of 
nervous  layers,  of  which  the  most  important  is  that 
known  as  the  layer  of  rods  and  cones.  The  remainder 
of  the  eye  consists  of  a set  of  subsidiary  mechanisms, 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


69 


some  of  which  serve  to  protect  the  eye,  while  others 
act  as  a system  of  lenses  and  refracting  media  to  form 
an  inverted  image  upon  the  retina.  There  is  also  a 
mechanism  of  accommodation  which  enables  the  eye 
to  adjust  itself  to  varying  distances  of  objects  in  such  a 
way  that  their  image  shall  fall  upon  the  retina,  and 
neither  behind  nor  before  it. 

Blind  Spot. — The  optic  nerve  is  not  itself  sensitive 
to  etheric  stimulation,  consequently  the  point  where 
it  enters  the  eye  leaves  a blank  in  the  field  of  vision, 
known  as  the  blind  spot.  Ordinarily  this  blank  is 
filled  in  by  the  restless  movement  of  the  eye,  and  by 
the  fact  that  the  blank  of  one  eye  does  not  correspond 
to  that  of  the  other.  It  may  be  rendered  apparent, 
however,  by  the  simple  expedient  of  closing  one  eye 
and  holding  the  other  fixed  upon  some  object.  The 
optic  nerve  enters  at  one  side  of  the  retina,  and  the 
centre  of  the  retina,  known  from  its  color  as  the  yellow 
spot,  is  the  point  of  most  acute  vision. 

The  Muscular  Mechanism.-—  The  eyes  are  supplied 
with  a set  of  very  fine  and  powerful  muscles.  These 
serve  to  turn  the  eye,  so  that  the  stimulus  shall  fall 
upon  the  most  sensitive  point,  the  yellow  spot.  They 
also  serve  to  make  the  two  eyes  act  as  one  organ,  to 
move  the  eyes  up  and  down,  right  and  left,  and  to 
close  them  entirely.  The  result  is  that  the  eye  is  the 
most  mobile  organ  of  the  body  and  is  never  at  rest. 
The  law  of  the  movements  of  the  muscles  is  that  any 
given  movement  is  always  affected  in  the  same  way  by 
the  contraction  of  the  same  muscles  to  the  same  extent. 
It  is  this  constancy  of  muscular  movements  which  en- 
ables the  muscular  sensations,  resulting  therefrom,  to 
be  such  an  accurate  and  perfect  basis  for  judgment  of 


70 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


distance  and  direction.  The  connection,  accordingly, 
between  the  visual  sensations  proper  and  the  muscular 
ocular  sensations  is  so  important  that  we  shall  consider 
them  together. 

III.  The  Sensations  Themselves.  — We  recognize 
two  classes  of  optical  sensations,  the  visual  and  the 
muscular. 

1.  Visual.  — There  is  no  sense  in  which  it  is  so 
necessary  to  discriminate  between  the  simple  sensuous 
element  and  the  factor  supplied  by  the  activities  of 
mind  as  in  sight.  Without  consideration,  it  wTould 
seem  as  if  the  visual  sensation  were  whatever  wTe  saw 
when  we  opened  our  eyes — the  visible  world  of  ob- 
jects, of  various  kinds,  at  various  distances.  But,  in 
reality,  this  is  a complex  psychical  product,  formed  by 
judgments  which  are  the  interpretations  of  the  sensu- 
ous material  and  not  the  material  itself.  Nor  is  the 
material  of  sensation  the  image  found  upon  the  retina. 
Physiology  teaches  us  that  this  image  is  exceedingly 
small,  is  inverted,  concave,  and  that  the  retinal  elements 
stimulated  are  a mosaic-work.  But,  furthermore,  psy- 
chology teaches  us  that  this  image  is  itself  an  external 
object,  the  knowledge  of  which  is  the  result  of  the  same 
processes  that  inform  us  of  the  existence  and  nature  of 
any  external  object.  In  sensation  there  is  no  immedi- 
ate knowledge  of  it  whatever.  We  are  aware  of  its 
existence  only  as  the  result  of  scientific  investigation. 

Light  the  Only  Element  of  Sensation. — It  follows, 
accordingly,  that  the  only  element  which  can  be  recog- 
nized as  that  of  sensation  proper  is  light  with  its  vari- 
ous distinctions.  These  distinctions  are  of  three  kinds  : 
(1)  of  intensity , corresponding  to  the  objective  energy 
involved ; (2)  of  hue,  corresponding  to  the  rate  of  ob- 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


71 


jective  vibration ; (3)  of  tint,  corresponding  to  the 
puritv,  that  is,  the  simple  or  compound  character  of 
the  vibrations. 

(1.)  Intensity  of  Light.  — This  does  not  refer  to 
qualitative  differences,  as  shades  of  color,  but  simply  to 
the  force  with  which  any  color  or  shade  impinges  upon 
us.  It  is  the  difference  between  the  pitch  darkness  of 
midnight,  the  obscurity  of  twilight,  and  the  blaze  of 
noonday.  It  depends  simply  upon  the  amount  of  en- 
ergy of  the  vibrations  of  ether  which  affect  the  retina. 
The  minimum  amount  of  objective  energy  necessary  to 
occasion  sensation  (threshold  value)  is  stated  at  -gig- 
of  the  light  of  the  full  moon  reflected  from  white 
paper.  The  difference  threshold  varies  with  differ- 
ent colors.  For  white  light,  it  is  about  for  red  XJT, 
and  the  ratio  necessary  decreases  until  it  reaches  the 
violet  end  of  the  spectrum,  where  it  is  only  The 

reason,  accordingly,  that  in  the  daytime  we  do  not  see 
the  light  of  the  stars  in  addition  to  that  of  the  sun  is 
that  they  do  not  give  of  the  light  of  the  sun. 

(2.)  Hue.  — The  hues  are  the  various  colors  of 
the  spectrum,  and  these  correspond  to  the  various 
pitches  of  the  musical  scale.  These  colors  are  such  as 
white  light  decomposes  into  when  refracted  through  a 
prism — namely,  violet,  indigo,  blue,  green,  yellow,  or- 
ange, red — given  in  the  order  of  decreasing  rapidity  of 
vibration  and  amount  of  refraction ; of  these,  red, 
green,  and  violet  are  called  the  primary  colors,  because 
from  their  proper  mixture  white  light  and  the  other 
spectral  colors  may  be  formed.  The  physical  basis  of 
colors  is,  therefore,  various  rates  of  vibration  of  the 
ether. 

(3.)  Tints  or  Shades. — We  recognize  more  than  the 


72 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


above  seven  colors — at  least  forty  thousand  have  been 
distinguished.  This  is  due  to  the  fact  that,  not  only  is 
the  spectrum  itself  a perfect  continuum  of  colors,  but 
each  of  these  spectral  colors  is,  in  turn,  a continuum  of 
shades.  These  are  due  to  the  degree  of  purity,  or,  as  it 
is  technically  called,  saturation  of  light.  When  rays 
corresponding  to  one  prismatic  color  fall  upon  the  ret- 
ina unaccompanied  by  any  other  kind  of  stimulation, 
the  resulting  sensation  is  pure,  or  saturated,  color. 
Just  in  the  degree  it  is  mixed  with  sensations  of  other 
kinds  it  is  non-saturated,  and  shades  of  the  color  are 
produced. 

Color-curve.  — In  general  two  kinds  of  shades  are 
recognized,  whitish  and  purplish.  This  is  due  to  the 
following  fact:  Certain  sets  of  colors,  as  red  and  blue- 
green,  yellow  and  indigo-blue,  unite  to  form  white  light. 
Such  sets  are  called  complementary  colors.  Now  if  we 
arrange  the  spectral  colors  on  a line,  and  select  from 
this  line  such  as  are  nearer  together  than  the  comple- 
mentary colors,  and  mix  them,  the  result  is  a whitish 
tint  of  the  intermediate  color.  If,  however,  we  take 
those  that  are  farther  apart,  it  results  in  a purplish 
tinge.  The  spectral  line  thus  takes  the  form  of  a 
curve,  with  green  at  the  apex,  red  and  violet  at  the 
bases,  while  purple  connects  these  two,  and  the  sur- 
face included  by  these  lines  represents  all  possible 
tints,  perfect  white  being  found  at  one  point,  whitish 
shades  above  it,  and  purplish  tints  below. 

2.  Muscular  Sensations.  — These  serve  two  pur- 
poses : (1)  they  aid  the  visual  sensations ; (2)  they  add 
a new  and  different  element  to  them. 

(1.)  They  increase  wonderfully  the  fineness  and  ac- 
curacy of  color  distinctions.  As  already  said,  the  yel* 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


73 


low  spot  is  the  most  finely  discriminating  portion  of 
the  retina.  Two  points  can  here  be  discriminated  as 
two  when  they  are  separated  by  only  .005  millimeter. 
Sight  thus  makes  two  hundred  times  finer  spatial  dis- 
crimination than  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  the  most  sensi- 
tive of  the  organs  of  touch.  This  fineness  decreases 
very  rapidly  as  we  go  towards  the  periphery  of  the 
retina — at  forty  degrees  difference  it  is  not  more  than 
y-J-jj-  as  great  as  at  the  centre,  and  it  decreases  at  a still 
more  rapid  rate  nearer  the  limits.  Were  it  not  for 
the  power  of  moving  the  eyes  rapidly,  only  that  com- 
paratively small  part  of  the  field  of  vision  which  falls 
upon  the  centre  would  be  distinctly  seen  ; all  else  would 
be  vague  and  blurred.  The  muscular  connections  of 
the  eye  also  allow  us  to  multiply  and  contrast  color 
sensations  almost  indefinitely.  Vision,  in  fact,  is  even 
more  dependent  upon  motor  activity  than  touch,  for 
with  a slight  muscular  contraction  the  eyes  close 
and  vision  ceases,  or  the  eyes  are  turned  and  the  sensa- 
tion changes  in  quality  and  intensity. 

(2.)  The  motor  activity  complements  the  visual  bv 
adding  new  sensations.  Each  movement  of  the  eye  is 
accompanied  by  a distinct  muscular  sensation.  It  re- 
quires less  muscular  contraction  of  the  eye  muscles  to 
occasion  change  of  sensation  than  any  other  portion  of 
the  system — a change  of  ^ produces  a new  sensation. 
There  is  always  a tendency  to  move  the  eyes  so  that 
they  shall  fixate  the  object  whose  image  falls  on  the 
point  of  most  acute  vision.  Thus  there  comes  to  be  a 
fixed  connection  between  the  visual  sensation  of  any 
part  of  the  eye  distant  from  the  centre  and  the  muscu- 
lar sensation  which  accompanies  the  change  of  the 
position  of  the  eye,  so  as  to  bring  the  image  upon  the 
4 


74 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


yellow  spot.  Thus,  by  a process  to  be  studied  under 
the  head  of  perception,  each  muscular  sensation  gets  to 
be  a permanent  and  accurate  sign  of  a certain  spatial 
distance  and  direction. 


By  the  diffusion  of  the  organs  of  this  sense  over  the 
skin,  and  by  the  emotional  and  vague  character  of  its 
sensations,  this  sense  is  specially  well  fitted  to  make  the 
transition  from  specific  to  organic  sensation.  It  will 
be  found  practically  impossible  to  separate  what  is  to 
be  said  about  this  sense  under  the  three  heads  which 
we  have  formerly  used. 

Organ. — Recent  investigations  have  shown  that  not 
the  whole  skin  is  sensitive  to  differences  of  heat  and 
cold.  The  skin,  in  fact,  may  be  divided  into  points 
of  three  kinds:  neutral,  which  are  barely  sensitive  of 
temperature  distinctions;  heat  spots;  and  cold  spots. 
The  two  latter  respond  only  to  stimuli  of  one  kind. 
That  is  to  say,  if  a cold  body  be  put  upon  a heat  spot, 
no  sensation  of  cold  results;  but  if  it  be  mechanically 
stimulated  by  a body  of  any  temperature  whatever, 
heat  results. 

Nature  of  the  Organ. — Just  what  the  nerve  ending 
is  which  functions  for  the  temperature  sense  is  not 
known.  It  is  believed,  however,  to  exist  only  in  the 
true  skin,  and  some  of  the  mucous  membranes  of  the 
body,  as  the  mouth,  oesophagus,  and  probably  the  - 
stomach.  It  is  destroyed  by  wounds,  burns,  scalds, 
etc.,  but  is  regenerated  with  the  healing  of  the  wound. 

It  is  distinct  from  the  organ  which  mediates  contact 
sensations,  for  the  parts  which  are  most  sensitive  to 
pressure  are  not  those  most  responsive  to  temperature 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


75 


differences,  which  are  the  cheek  and  the  back  of  the 
hand.  Again  the  heat  and  cold  spots  do  not  coincide 
with  the  tactile  corpuscles.  In  clinical  cases  it  has 
been  noticed  that  one  sense  may  be  in  abeyance  while 
the  other  is  vigorous.  The  organ  is  also  distinct  from 
that  of  pain.  By  the  use  of  cocoaine  it  is  possible 
to  produce  local  insensibility  to  pain,  or  anaesthesia, 
while  the  part  remains  as  sensitive  to  differences  of 
heat  and  cold  as  ever. 

The  Sensations. — Temperature  sensations  are  specifi- 
cally different  from  others,  therefore,  and  have  organs 
of  their  own.  Feelings  of  heat  and  cold  are  not  two 
degrees  of  the  same  sensation,  but  are  specifically  dif- 
ferent, having  separate  organs.  The  threshold  differ- 
ence is  stated  at  one  third.  There  are  some  points 
connected  with  sensations  of  this  class  which  remain 
unsettled.  Why,  for  example,  do  we  generally  per- 
ceive only  differences  of  temperature,  and  not  temper- 
ature itself  ? The  body  seems  to  have  the  power  of 
adjusting  itself,  within  certain  limits,  to  the  degree  of 
temperature  which  surrounds  it,  and  this  normal  tem- 
perature we  do  not  feel,  but  only  departures  from  it. 
This  has  its  analogue  in  other  senses,  and  may  be  due 
partly  to  an  actual  change  in  the  sensory  organ,  and 
partly  to  the  fact  that  we  do  not  pay  attention  to 
whatever  is  customary.  Another  fact  is  that  a body 
of  lukewarm  temperature  will  appear  hot  to  a cold 
hand,  while  it  seems  cold  to  a hot  hand,  showing  the 
influence  of  contrast  upon  our  perceptions. 

§ 9.  General  Sensation. 

General,  or  organic,  sensations  have  been  already  de- 
fined. They  are  such  as  arise  incidentally  in  the  nerve 


76 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


organ  whose  main  function  is  the  regulation  of  some 
animal  process.  They  are  differentiated  from  specific 
sensations  as  much  by  their  own  character  as  by  the 
way  in  which  they  originate.  They  are  extremely 
vague  and  changeable  ; they  pass  into  each  other  by 
imperceptible  gradations.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
localize  them.  They  do  not  have  that  connection  with 
muscular  sensation  which  characterizes  specific  sensa- 
tions. It  follows  that  they  serve  as  the  basis  of  knowl- 
edge only  to  a very  slight  degree,  whether  knowledge 
of  extra-organic  bodies  or  of  the  organism  itself.  They 
are  more  closely  allied  with  feeling. 

Classification. — They  may  be  divided  into  (1)  those 
arising  from  the  state  of  a body  as  a whole,  or  serving 
to  regulate  it ; (2)  those  connected  with  some  one  set 
of  bodily  organs;  (3)  those  arising  indifferently  in  any 
part  of  the  body. 

1.  Sensations  of  the  Organism , as  a Whole. — These 
may  be  subdivided  into  (1)  coenaesthesia,  and  (2)  sys- 
temic feelings. 

(1.)  Coencesthesia,  or,  as  it  is  otherwise  called,  com- 
mon feeling,  which  seems  to  arise  from  the  summation 
and  cumulation  of  all  the  sensations  of  all  the  sensitive 
parts  of  the  body.  Any  one,  taken  by  itself,  is  very 
minute,  and  might  be  imperceptible.  Taken  together 
they  constitute  the  sense  of  life,  of  vitality,  and  of  gen- 
eral l>ien  aise , or  malaise.  They  seem  also  to  make  up 
the  underlying  emotional  temperament  of  the  individ- 
ual as  distinct  from  his  varying  moods  and  dispositions. 
They  also  serve  as  the  sensuous  basis,  which,  when  in- 
terpreted, goes  to  determine  the  feeling  which  each 
has  of  his  own  individuality.  Any  sudden  or  abnor- 
mal alteration  of  it  is  quite  likely  to  result  in  some 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


77 


disorder  of  individuality,  as  seen  in  insane  persons,  who 
imagine  themselves  to  be  Job,  Queen  Victoria,  Julius 
Caesar,  etc.  These  feelings,  constituting  the  report  in 
consciousness  of  one’s  body,  as  a whole,  are  certainly 
intimately  connected  with  self.  They  are  constant, 
continuous,  and  relatively  permanent.  They  form  the 
background  on  which  all  other  feelings  display  them- 
selves. It  is  not  strange  that  their  disorder  should  be 
accompanied  with  results  otherwise  startling. 

(2.)  Systemic  Feelings. — These  are  such  as  regulate 
the  animal  activities  of  the  organism.  They  are  espe- 
cially the  feelings  of  hungeT,  thirst,  and  sex,  and  get 
their  name  from  their  connection  with  the  system  as 
a whole.  Some  have  attempted  to  localize  these  sen- 
sations ; to  refer  hunger,  for  example,  to  the  stomach, 
as  its  organ  ; but  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  are  prop- 
erly feelings  of  the  whole  organism.  Not  the  stomach, 
but  the  system,  wants  food  ; and  so  of  thirst  and  sexual 
feeling. 

2.  Sensations  of  Organs—  The  nerve  endings  of  the 
stomach,  for  example,  have  as  their  proper  business 
the  regulation  of  the  processes  of  digestion.  Usually 
such  feelings  as  accompany  this  process  are  lost  in  the 
coenmsthetic  feeling,  adding  to  our  sense  of  vitality 
and  well-being.  They  may  appear,  however,  as  espe- 
cial feelings  of  relish  and  disgust,  nausea.  In  case  of 
disease,  they  obtrude  themselves  very  distinctly.  Sen- 
sations accompanying  indigestion  are  characterized 
equally  by  their  painful  feeling,  and  by  the  influence 
which  they  exert  upon  the  emotional  mood.  Besides 
the  sensation  of  digestion  may  be  mentioned  those  ac- 
companying respiration,  the  pulmonary  sensations ; and, 
in  abnormal  cases,  those  accompanying  the  action  of 


78 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  heart.  Each  organ  of  the  body,  however,  has  its 
special  report  in  feeling,  and  the  hypochondriac  often 
gains  great  skill  in  recognizing  them. 

3.  Sensations  which  may  Arise  in  any  Organ. — These 
are  pain  and  fatigue.  Disease  or  overwork  of  any 
portion  of  the  body,  or  of  the  body  as  a whole,  makes 
itself  known  in  peculiar  sensations.  These  sensations 
are  evidently  wholly  emotional  in  their  natures,  and 
hence  take  us  beyond  our  present  subject. 


(§  1.)  Upon  the  general  nature  of  sensation  the  following  references  will 
give  an  idea  of  the  various  opinions  held.  Hartley,  “ Conjecture  qusedam  de 
Sensu,  Motu  et  Ideorum  Generatione;”  Spencer  (op.  cit.),  pt.  ii.,  clis.  i.  and 
ii.;  Morell,  “Elements  of  Psychology,”  pp.  85-118;  Sully,  “Sensation  and 
Intuition,”  and  “Psychology,”  ch.  v. ; Lewes,  “Problems  of  Life  and  Mind,” 
Third  Series,  pt.  2,  pp.  86-50 ; Bain,  “ Senses  and  Intellect,”  p.  1 17 ; Brown, 
“ Philosophy  of  Mind,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  417-499 ; Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  18-31 ; Car- 
penter, “Mental  Physiology,”  ch.  iv. ; Maudsley,  “Physiology  of  Mind,”  ch. 
iv. ; Gillaume,  “Nouveau  Traite  des  Sensations;”  Lotze,  “Elements  of  Psy- 
chology” (transl. ),  pp.  5-28,  and  “Metaphvsic”  (transl. ),  pp.  445-456; 
Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  271-320 ; Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  216-249  ; 
Waitz,  “ Grundlegung  dor  Psychologie,”  p.  42 ; Ilorwicz  (op.  cit.),  x ol.  i., 
pp.  175-185 ; George  (op.  cit.),  pp.  55-69,  and  “ Die  Fiinf  Sinne ;”  Rosenkranz, 
“Psychologie,”  pp.  75-93;  Michelet,  “Anthropologic  und  Psychologie,”  pp. 
240-267 ; Schneider,  “ Die  Unterscheidung,”  pp.  1-23  ; Bergmann,  “ Grund- 
linien  einer  Theorie  des  Bewusstseins,”  pp.  31-53 ; Helmholtz,  “ Philosophisehe 
Abhandlungen,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  591-609;  Strieker,  “ Studien  fiber  das  Bewusst- 
sein,”  pp.  15-29. 

For  the  educational  aspect  of  the  question,  see  Perez,  “L’Education  des  le 
Berceau,”  pp.  1-34,  Pape-Carpantier,  “L’Education  des  Sens;”  Delon,  “Me- 
thode  Intuitive;”  Jahn,  “Psychologie,”  pp.  5-13;  Delhez,  “ Gfymnastik  der 
Sinne;”  Beneke,  “Erziehungs-  und  Unterriclitslehre,”  pp. 71-86. 

(§  3.)  Foster,  “ Text-book  of  Physiology,”  pp.  589-598  ; Bain  (op.  cit.),  pp. 
175-205;  Bernstein  (op.  cit.),  pp.  10-43;  Taine  (op.  cit.),  bk.  iii.,  ch.  ii.,  § 4; 
Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  40-46  ; Hermann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  289-358  ; Wundt 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  365-381 ; Preyer  (op.  cit.),  pp.  70-84,  and  especially  Weber, 
Tastsinn,undGemeingefuhl,  in  Wagner’s  “Handworterbuch  der  Physiologie.” 
Upon  local  signs  in  particular,  see  Ribot,  “Contemporary  German  Psy- 
chology,” ch.  iv. ; “ Revue  Philosopliique,”  vol.  iv.,  by  Lotze ; ibid.  vol.  vi.,  by 
Wundt;  Lotze,  “ Metaphvsic,”  pp.  485-505 ; Stumpf,  “ Psychologische  Ur- 
sprung  der  Raumvorstellung,”  pp.  86-101.  Additional  upon  muscular  sensa- 


ELEMENTS  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


79 


tion  are  Mach,  “Die  Lehre  von  den  Bewegungsempfindungen Bastian, 
“Brain  as  Organ  of  Mind,”  in  Appendix;  Ferrier,  “Functions  of  Brain,” 
pp.  266-271 ; Lewes  (op.  tit.),  Third  Series,  pt.  2,  pp.  312-329 ; Bain  (ojj.  tit.), 
pp.  87-106,  and  (especially)  James,  “Feeling  of  Effort;”  Jeanmaire,  “La 
Personnalite,”  pp.  217-310  ; Bertrand,  “ L’ Apperception  du  Corps  Humain 
par  le  Conscience;”  Hermann  (op.  tit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  359-374;  Donaldson  and 
Hall,  “Mind,”  vol.  x.,  p.557.  For  optical  muscular  sensations  in  particu- 
lar, see  Bernstein  (op.  tit.),  pp.  123-136,  and  Helmholtz,  “Optique  Physio- 
logique”  (French  transl.),  pp.  595-680. 

(§  4.)  Murray  (op.  tit.),  pp.  36-40;  Bain  (op.  tit.),  pp.  163-175;  Bernstein 
(op.  tit.),  pp.  285-294;  Preyer  (op.  cit.),  pp.  95-102  ; Hermann  (op.  tit.),  vol. 
ii.,  pp.  270-288.  For  an  odd  collection  of  facts  and  fancies  regarding  the 
sense  of  smell,  see  Jiiger,  “Die  Entdeckung  der  Seele.” 

(§  5.)  Murray  (op.  tit.),  pp.  32-36 ; Bain  (op.  cit.),  pp.  152-163;  Wundt 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  382-385;  Preyer,  “Die  Seele  des  Ki tides, ” pp.  85-94; 
Ulrici  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  332-335  ; Taine,  “ Intelligence,”  bk.  iii.,  cb.  ii.,  § 3, 
and  especially  Bernstein,  “Five  Senses  of  Man,”  pp.  295-301,  and  Hermann’s 
“ Handbuch  der  Physiologie  der  Sinnesorganen,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  192-225. 

(§  6.)  Upon  this  sense  Helmholtz’s  “Theory  of  Tone  Sensations"  is  the 
principal  authority,  along  with  articles  in  his  “ Wissenschaftliche  Abhand- 
lungen,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  233-428;  vol.  ii.,  pp.  503-590,  and  his  “Popular  Scien- 
tific Lectures,”  pp.  61  - 106.  Next  in  importance  come,  perhaps,  Stumpf, 
“ Tonpsychologie,”  and  Hermann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  1-126.  See,  also,  Bern- 
stein (op.  cit.),  pp.  164-284;  Sully,  “Sensation  and  Intuition,”  pp.  163-185; 
Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  386-409;  vol.  ii.,  pp.  34-60;  “ I’hilosophische 
Studien,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  453  and  495;  liiemann,  “ Ueber  das  musikalische  Ho- 
ren;” Hostinskv,  “Die  Lehre  von  den  musikalischen  Klangen;”  Czermak, 
“ Ueber  das  Ohr  und  das  Iloren.” 

(§  7.)  There  is  considerable  literature  upon  the  historical  development  of 
this  sense.  See,  besides  discussions  in  periodical  literature  by  Gladstone  and 
Max  Muller,  Allen,  “Color  Sense,”  and  Magnus,  Marty,  and  Hochegger  upon 
“Die  geschichtliche  Entwickelung  des  Farbensinnes.”  Compare  also  Gra- 
ber,  “Der  Helligskeits-  und  Farbensinn  der  Thiere.”  The  chief  authority 
upon  the  sense  is  Helmholtz,  “ Physiologique  Optique”  (French  edition),  pp. 
204-444,  and  “ Popular  Scientific  Lectures,”  pp.  229-270 ; see  also  Volkmanti, 
article  “ Sehen,”  in  Wagner’s  “Hwb.  der  Physiologie.”  For  various  theo- 
ries upon  color,  see  Goethe,  “ Theory  of  Colors,”  and  Schopenhauer,  “ Ueber 
das  Sehen  und  die  Farben,”  which,  though  antiquated,  are  still  interesting. 
For  the  sense  in  general,  see  Jeffries,  “Color  Blindness”  (contains  a valuable 
bibliography);  Bernstein  (op.  tit.),  pp.  48 - 122 ; Hermann  (op.  tit.),  vol.  i., 
pp.  139-234;  Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  410-464;  Foster  (op.  tit.),  pp.  510- 
551 ; Bain  (op.  cit.),  p.  222-250  ; Preyer  (op.  cit.),  p.  451.  For  remarkable 
associations  of  color  and  tone  sensations,  see  Bleuler  and  Lehmann,  “Zwangs- 
massige  Lichtempfindungen.” 


80 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


(§  8.)  Hermann  (op.  cit."),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  415-439,  and  Donaldson,  “ Mind,”  vol. 
x.,  p.  399,  with  the  bibliography  there  given. 

(§  9.)  References  upon  organic  sensations  will  be  found  included,  for  the 
most  part,  in  the  foregoing.  In  addition  may  be  consulted,  Preyer  (pp.  cit.), 
pp.  103-128  ; Horwicz  (op.  cit .),  vol.  i.,  pp.  185-191,  337-340  ; Murray  (op. 
cit.),  pp.  60-71. 

On  the  Senses,  see  Ladd,  “Elements  of  Physiological  Psychology,”  Part 
ii.,  chs.  iii.-v.  Experiments  throwing  light  on  the  interconnection  of  the 
various  sense  qualities  and  going  to  show  that  photisms  and  phoniems  may 
be  only  extreme  exaggerations  of  normal  processes  may  be  found  in  rfliiger’s 
“Archiv,”  Bd.  xlii.,  p.  154.  For  an  extremely  useful  compendium  of  experi- 
ments, etc.,  regarding  the  senses,  see  Sanford,  in  “American  Journal  of  Psy- 
chology’,” April,  1891. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 

§ 1.  The  Nature  of  the  Problem. 

Sensations  are  not  Knowledge. — But  these  elements 
which  we  have  been  studying  do  not  constitute  knowl- 
edge or  knowing.  Knowing  does  not  consist  in  having 
feelings  of  heat,  of  contact,  of  color,  and  of  sound. 
The  world  which  is  known  is  not  a disorderly,  passing 
assemblage  of  these  feelings.  We  have  now  to  dis- 
cover the  processes  by  which  these  sensations  are  elab- 
orated, on  the  one  hand,  into  the  objects  known,  and 
on  the  other  into  the  subject  knowing.  The  best  way 
of  approaching  this  study  will  be  to  ascertain  what 
some  of  the  general  characteristics  of  the  known  world 
and  knowing  self  are,  and  by  comparing  these  charac- 
teristics with  those  of  sensations,  find  out  what  gap  it 
is  which  the  processes  are  to  bridge  over.  We  shall 
begin,  in  short,  by  pointing  out  the  necessity  of  these 
processes,  and  the  function  which  they  fulfil  in  the 
psychical  life. 

I.  The  Mature  of  the  Known  World. 

1.  Actual  Knowledge  is  Concerned  with  a World  of 
Related  Objects— that  is  to  say,  with  a universe  of  things 
and  events  arranged  in  space  and  time.  By  an  object 
we  mean  (1)  something  having  a certain  permanence, 
(2)  existing,  therefore,  aside  from  the  mere  occurrence 
of  a sensation,  and  (3)  capable  of  being  presented  to 
4* 


82 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


any  normal  mind.  What  we  need  to  explain,  then,  is 
how  we  become  conscious  of  a sensation,  instead  of 
merely  feeling  it ; how  the  quality  of  a sensation  be- 
comes consciously  distinguished  from  the  mere  event 
or  occurrence  of  the  sensation.  As  an  event,  sensa- 
tion is  limited  to  some  one  mind,  and  to  some  one 
moment.  It  lasts  only  as  long  as  it  is  felt.  But  the 
world  of  objects  is  not  a series  of  unconnected,  un- 
related objects.  Each  is  joined  to  every  other  in 
space  and  in  time.  We  never  experience  any  breach 
of  continuity.  We  pass  naturally,  by  some  connect- 
ing link,  from  one  to  another.  We  live,  in  short, 
in  an  ordered,  harmonious  world,  or  cosmos;  not  in 
a chaos.  All  objects  and  events  are  considered  as 
members  of  one  system ; they  constitute  a uni-verse , 
one  world,  in  which  order,  connection,  is  the  universal 
rule. 

2.  Actual  Knowledge  is  Concerned  with  Relations. 
— We  are  not  limited  to  particular  objects  or  events 
alone.  Science  opens  to  us  the  realm  of  relations,  or 
laws — uniformities  which  connect  phenomena  with 
each  other,  and  are  hence  universal.  Science  deals 
only  incidentally  with  this  apple,  or  that  rose ; this 
particular  cat  or  jelly-fish.  It  deals  with  them  only  to 
discover  exemplified  in  them  certain  common  features 
which  it  expects  to  find  in  all  members  of  the  class;  that 
is,  certain  relations  universally  present.  These  relations, 
accordingly,  are  not  mere  objects  or  events.  They  are 
permanent  connections  which  hold  objects  and  events 
together,  and  make  a unity  of  them.  As  just  pointed 
out,  the  objects  and  events  which  we  know  are  con- 
nected with  each  other,  but  in  ordinary  perception  we 
pay  no  particular  attention  to  these  relations.  We  are 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


83 


absorbed  with  the  individual  existence.  Science  takes 
a step  in  advance  and  discovers  what  these  relations 
are  which  connect  things  and  occurrences  together  so 
that  they  all  constitute  a harmonious  whole. 

Nature  of  Science. — Scientific  knowledge,  in  other 
words,  differs  from  ordinary  knowledge  in  being  uni- 
fied, systematic,  connected  knowledge.  Science  is  not 
content  with  knowing  that  objects  are  connected  in 
time  and  space ; it  endeavors  to  find  out  just  what  the 
relations  of  succession  and  co-existence  are  which  do 
thus  connect  them.  It  reduces  many  separate  facts  to 
their  unity  in  one  law.  It  finds  one  form,  or  a uni- 
formity, in  many  facts  apparently  unconnected.  The 
ultimate  aim  of  science  is  to  unify  all  facts  and  events 
whatever,  so  that  it  may  not  only  feel  that  they  are 
members  of  one  system,  but  may  actually  realize  their 
systematic  unity.  It  is  evident  that  the  original,  fleet- 
ing, subjective  affections,  known  as  sensations,  will  have 
to  be  still  further  transformed,  in  order  to  account  for 
that  form  of  knowledge  which  we  call  science. 

3.  Actual  Knowledge  is  Concerned  with  Ideal  Ele- 
ments.— The  epic  of  Homer,  the  tragedy  of  Sophocles, 
the  statue  of  Phidias,  the  symphony  of  Beethoven  are 
creations.  Although  having  a correspondence  with 
actual  existences,  they  do  not  reproduce  them.  They 
are  virtual  additions  to  the  world’s  riches ; they  are 
ideal.  Such  creations  are  not  confined  to  art,  nor  are 
they  remote  from  our  daily  existence.  When  shall 
we  see  justice?  Who  has  touched  righteousness? 
What  sense  or  combination  of  senses  gives  us  the  idea 
of  the  state  or  church;  of  history,  as  the  development 
of  man ; of  God,  or  the  source  and  end  of  all  our  striv- 
ings? What  a meagre  life  were  left  us,  were  the  ideal 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


84 

elements  removed!  It  would  be,  as  has  been  well  said, 
a world  in  which  the  home  would  be  four  walls  and  a 
roof  to  keep  out  cold  and  wet ; the  table  a mess  for 
animals,  and  the  grave  a hole  in  the  ground. 

A world  in  which  everything  is  regarded  simply  as 
a fact  presented  to  the  senses  would  hardly  be  a world 
in  which  we  should  care  to  live.  The  processes  we  are 
about  to  study  must,  therefore,  be  capable  of  transmut- 
ing sensations  into  these  ideals  which  make  life  rich, 
worthy,  and  dignified. 

II.  The  Nature  of  the  Knoaving  Self. 

Along  with  the  transformation  of  sensations  into 
this  world  of  objects,  relations,  and  ideals,  goes  their 
transformation  into  the  self  which  knoAvs  and  idealizes. 
The  man  not  only  knoAvs  more  than  the  child,  but  he 
is  a man  instead  of  a child.  He  not  only  knoAA's  more, 
but  he  is  more.  This  difference  is  not  a physical  one 
of  bulk,  or  stature,  or  age ; any  more  than  it  is  differ- 
ence of  color  of  hair,  or  texture  of  the  skin.  These 
are  of  any  importance  only  because  they  are  connected 
with  a psychical  difference,  the  difference  in  the  degree 
of  development  of  the  knowing  self.  The  processes 
Avhicli  Ave  are  to  study  must  therefore  be  such  as  to 
enable  us  to  account  for  this  groAvth  of  self. 

The  Processes. — These  processes  are  ultimately  re- 
ducible to  tAvo,  one  of  which  is  principally  concerned 
with  the  formation  of  the  Avorld  of  known  objects  and 
relations  out  of  the  elementary  sensations,  while  the 
other  is  concerned  with  the  formation  of  the  knoAving 
self.  To  these  two  processes  the  names  of  appercep- 
tion and  retention  may  be  given.  Apperception  may 
be  defined,  at  the  outset,  as  the  reaction  of  mind  by 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


85 


means  of  its  organized  structure  upon  the  sensuous 
material  presented  to  it.  Retention  is  the  reaction  of 
the  apperceived  content  upon  the  organized  structure 
of  the  mind.  Apperception  organizes  the  world  of 
knowledge  by  bringing  the  self  to  bear  upon  it;  reten- 
tion organizes  the  self  by  bringing  the  things  known 
to  bear  upon  it.  Each  process,  accordingly,  involves 
the  other.  We  begin  with  the  subject  of 

§ 2.  Apperception. 

A.  The  Problem  of  Apperception. 

In  general,  this  is  the  fact  that  there  is  such  a thing 
as  knowledge ; that  we  not  only  have  sensations,  but 
have  an  intelligent  life  and  intelligible  experiences. 
Whatever  appeals  to  the  investigation  of  intelligence, 
offers  it  material  upon  which  to  exert  its  activities, 
whatever  responds  to  the  inquiry  by  producing  some 
fruit  for  intelligence,  we  call  significant , or  possessing 
meaning.  It  is  the  characteristic,  then,  of  the  subject- 
matter  of  our  psychical  life  that  it  has  meaning.  What- 
ever is  meaningless  has  no  point  of  contact  with  intel- 
ligence or  the  apperceiving  activity  of  mind.  The 
main-spring  of  our  cognitive  experiences  is  the  more 
or  less  conscious  feeling  that  things  have  meaning. 

Significance  and  Relations.  — 11  we  inquire  under 
what  circumstances  any  object  or  event  enters  into  our 
intellectual  life  as  significant,  we  find  that  it  is  when  it 
is  connected  in  an  orderly  way  with  the  rest  of  our 
experience.  The  meaningless  is  that  which  is  out  of 
harmony,  which  has  no  connection  with  other  elements. 
To  have  meaning,  the  fact  or  event  must  be  related 
to  some  other  fact  or  event.  The  isolated,  the  sepa- 
rate, is  never  the  object  of  knowledge.  Were  not  sen- 


86 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sations  capable  of  being  connected  so  that  the  mind 
could  go  from  one  to  another  naturally,  they  never 
could  become  even  materials  of  knowledge.  To  be 
significant  is  to  be  a sign;  that  is,  to  point  to  some- 
thing beyond  its  own  existence  to  which  it  is  related. 
Whatever  has  its  meaning  exhausted  in  itself,  and  con- 
sequently has  no  connection  with  anything  beyond  it- 
self, has  no  meaning.  Relationship  is  the  essence  of 
meaning. 

Two  Kinds  of  Relations. — Looking  at  the  matter  in 
a very  general  way,  we  find  that  psychical  life  has 
meaning  because  its  elements  are  connected  in  two 
ways  : (1)  They  are  combined  ; (2)  They  are  continuous. 
That  is  to  say,  all  the  cognitive  elements  occurring  at 
any  one  time  are  combined  into  a whole,  and  all  these 
combinations,  made  at  various  times,  are  connected  into 
an  orderly,  continuous  whole.  Our  ideas  are  significant 
because  they  are  related  in  two  ways:  any  given  idea 
is  related  to  all  ideas  existing  at  the  same  time,  and 
is  related  to  all  ideas  which  occur  at  different  times. 
These  two  kinds  of  relation  evidently  cover  the  whole 
of  our  psychical  life.  Such  relations  are,  however,  ex- 
ternal, and  we  shall  find  certain  internal  relations,  those 
of  identity  and  difference,  more  essential.  Yet  by  re- 
lations our  mental  life  has  meaning. 

Illustration—  This  may  be  shown  in  a simple  way 
by  asking  what  is  involved  in  the  apperception  of,  say, 
an  orange.  The  sensations  of  sight,  touch,  taste,  and 
smell  are  its  constituent  elements.  They  give  the  ma- 
terial which  enters  into  the  cognition.  As  sensations 
alone,  these  are  unrelated  and  unconnected.  Each  is 
transitory,  complete  in  itself,  therefore  isolated  and 
pointing  to  nothing  beyond  itself.  Hence  they  are 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


87 


meaningless.  They  are  not  the  idea  of  an  orange ; they 
are  half  a dozen  separate  elements  of  weight,  color, 
flavor,  etc.  These  elements  must,  according!}7,  be  com- 
bined. They  must  be  brought  into  connection  with 
each  other,  and  made  members  of  a whole — only  then 
do  they  get  meaning,  and  appeal  to  intelligence.  But 
this  combination  does  not  give  us  knowledge  of  an 
orange.  This  means  more  than  that  we  do  not  know 
that  its  name  is  “orange.”  We  do  not  yet  know  the 
thing.  When  we  know  a thing  we  recognize  it,  but 
we  cannot  recognize  anything  unless  we  can  connect  it 
with  our  previous  experience,  and  recognize  it  as  like 
some  of  our  past  ideas,  and  unlike  others.  In  short,  it 
must  be  given  a place  in  the  connected  series  of  ideas 
which  make  up  our  experience  before  it  is  known. 

First  Objection. — An  examination  of  the  objections 
which  might  be  brought  against  this  assertion  will  tend 
to  make  the  matter  clearer.  In  the  first  place,  it  may 
be  objected,  that  Ave  do  know  things  which  we  have 
never  experienced  before,  and  that  if  Ave  did  not,  there 
would  be  no  such  thing  as  learning  or  neAv  knowledge. 
For  example,  Ave  may  be  given  a strange  fruit,  perhaps 
a guava,  and  by  “ trying  ” it,  Ave  find  out  almost  every- 
thing about  it.  But,  if  we  inquire  Avhat  Ave  mean  by 
finding  out  about  it,  we  see  that  the  objection  confirms 
rather  than  refutes  the  original  assertion.  In  the  first 
place,  we  shall  find  out  that  it  is  a fruit,  and  this  we 
can  do  only  as  we  recognize  its  identity  with  some 
of  our  previous  experiences,  and  thus  connect  them 
together.  Then  Ave  may  discover  that  it  is  edible,  but 
this  is  only  because  its  odor,  flaA7or,  etc.,  have  been  for- 
merly associated  with  objects  that  are  edible.  So  far, 
in  short,  as  the  guava  is  known,  it  is  known  by  disco\7- 


88 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ering  points  of  likeness  between  it  and  what  has  been 
previously  known.  Knowledge  is  extensive  and  accu- 
rate just  in  the  degree  in  which  we  have  had  experi- 
ences in  the  past,  similar  to  the  present  one,  with  which 
we  can  connect  it.  Were  it  absolutely  unfamiliar  it 
would  be  absolutely  non-significant.  This  condition, 
however,  can  never  be  fulfilled,  for  we  shall  at  least  be 
able  to  recognize  it  as  a thing  or  object,  as  having  ex- 
istence, etc. 

Second  Objection. — But  it  may  be  said  that  there  wras 
a time  when  we  experienced  something  absolutely  un- 
familiar, that  intelligent  life  had  a beginning,  so  that 
there  was  in  infancy  a time  when  the  thing  was  first 
known,  and  could  not  be  known  by  connecting  it  with 
other  knowledge.  But  this  objection  overlooks  the 
fact  that  the  baby’s  knowledge  is  not  a thing  which 
occurs  all  at  once,  but  is  a matter  of  gradual  growth. 
The  first  years  of  childhood  are  spent,  not  so  much  in 
knowing  things,  as  in  getting  experiences  which  may 
be  brought  to  bear  in  the  future,  and  thus  enable  him  to 
know.  The  infant  has  all  the  sensations  that  we  have, 
yet  no  one  would  say  that  he  has  the  knowledge.  The 
reason  for  this  fact  is  that  he  does  not  have  the  past 
store  of  experience  with  which  he  may  connect  the 
present,  and  thus  render  it  significant.  The  child 
spends  his  early  years  in  learning  to  know.  Knowl- 
edge is  an  acquired  product,  due  to  the  possibility  of 
connecting  present  experiences  with  past. 

Summary. — The  characteristic  of  our  intelligent  life, 
both  as  a whole,  and  in  its  parts,  is  that  it  is  significant. 
Significant  means  ordered,  connected ; and  connected 
in  two  ways,  simultaneously  and  successively.  Accord- 
ingly,  in  studying  apperception,  or  the  activity  of  mind 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


89 


which  renders  psychical  life  intelligent,  we  are  study- 
ing the  means  by  which  the  sensuous  elements  of  our 
knowledge  main  significance  through  the  union  of  all 
elements  occurring  together,  and  by  the  mutual  refer- 
ence to  each  other  of  those  occurring  at  different  times. 
We  now  turn  to  a study  of  the  definite  ways  in  which 
this  is  accomplished. 

B.  Kinds  of  Apperception. 

Apperception  is  that  activity  of  mind  in  which  the 
significance  of  mental  events  is  brought  out,  though  be- 
coming explicitly  conscious  of  the  relations  involved  in 
them.  It  is  the  appropriation  of  the  intellectual,  or 
qualitative,  value  of  an  experience  merely  momentarily 
felt.  In  our  study  of  it  we  shall  recognize  three  stages  : 
1.  Association  ; 2.  Dissociation  ; 3.  Attention. 

Three  Stages. — These  are  not  to  be  understood  as 
three  kinds  of  apperception,  but  only  as  three  degrees 
in  the  development  of  the  apperceiving  activity.  The 
basis  of  the  division  is  the  relative  simplicity  of  the 
processes,  and  the  relative  activity  of  the  mind  in  per- 
forming them.  Association  is  comparatively  simple, 
dealing  with  the  original  sensuous  forms,  and  combin- 
ing  them  into  comparatively  non-complex  wholes.  At- 
tention begins  with  these  wholes,  already  prepared  for 
it.  Its  results  are  the  highest  and  most  complex  crea- 
tions of  our  intellectual  life. 

Relative  Activity. — The  mind  is,  of  course,  active  in 
all  processes,  but  in  association  the  activity  appears  to 
be  externally  occasioned  and  directed.  The  mind  is 
active  in  combining  sensations,  but  the  combining  ac- 
tivity follows  mechanically  upon  the  presence  of  the 
sensations,  and  the  direction  which  it  takes  is  depend- 


90 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ent  upon  them.  In  attention,  the  activity  is  not  pro- 
duced by  the  mere  presence  of  the  ideas,  but  is  due  to 
the  interests  and  aims  of  the  mind  itself.  The  mind 
associates  whatever  is  given  to  it ; it  attends  only  to 
that  which  it  selects.  So  the  special  direction  which 
the  attention  takes  is  determined  not  by  the  character 
of  the  sensations  themselves,  but  by  the  end  which  the 
mind  wishes  to  reach  for  purposes  of  its  own.  The 
activity,  in  one  case,  is  externally  determined ; in  the 
other  case,  it  is  self-determined.  Dissociation  occupies 
an  intermediate  place.  It  frees  the  mind  from  the 
mechanical  pressure  which  association  exerts  upon  it, 
and  disengages  the  various  ends  towards  which  atten- 
tion may  direct  itself.  Each  of  these  later  stages  grows 
naturally  out  of  the  previous  one ; and  we  shall  find 
that  the  emotional  side  of  the  mind,  or  its  interests, 
is  the  active  factor  in  occasioning  the  growth  of  the 
mind  in  intellectual  freedom. 

§ 3.  Association. 

A.  The  law  of  association,  stated  most  generally,  is 
that  the  activity  of  mind  never  leaves  sensuous  elements 
isolated,  but  connects  them  into  larger  wholes.  We  be- 
gin with  a study  of  its  conditions,  positive  and  neg- 
ative. 

I.  Positive  Conditions. — These  are  : (1)  The  presence 
of  sensuous  elements;  (2)  That  state  of  mind  which  we 
call  being  awake.  It  is  evident,  on  the  one  hand,  that 
if  there  be  no  sensuous  elements  present,  there  will  be 
nothing  for  the  apperceiving  activity  to  combine,  and 
also  nothing  to  stimulate  it  into  activity.  The  mind, 
in  spite  of  its  tendency  to  act,  would  remain  an  unde- 
veloped blank,  were  it  not  for  the  presence  of  sensa- 


PKOCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


91 


tions  to  call  forth  its  processes.  In  the  case  of  a per- 
son who  had  lost  all  senses  excepting  hearing,  it  was 
only  found  necessary  to  close  his  ears  to  induce  sleep. 
On  the  other  hand,  no  matter  how  strong  and  numer- 
ous are  the  sensations  presented,  if  the  mind  is  not  in 
that  state  of  readiness  which  we  call  being  awake,  no 
association  results.  Mere  sensations  are  not  enough  to 
keep  the  mind  awake,  although  it  will  not  be  awake 
without  them.  Constant  stimulation  seems  to  fatigue 
the  mind,  and,  finally,  bring  it'to  a state  where  it  is  no 
longer  able  to  respond.  In  just  the  degree  in  which 
this  awakeness  ceases,  fails  also  the  combining  activity 
of  self.  It  must  be  remembered,  however,  that  in  the 
state  of  dreaming  the  mind  is  still  partially  awake. 

II.  Negative  Conditions. — The  conditions  just  men- 
tioned are  equally  conditions  of  any  activity  of  mind. 
To  differentiate  association  from  the  higher  activities, 
it  is  necessary  to  mention  some  negative  conditions. 
These,  as  already  suggested  (page  89),  are  relative  pas- 
sivity of  the  mind,  and  relative  simplicity  of  the  sen- 
sory elements.  By  passivity  is  not  meant  that  the 
mind  is  wholly  passive,  and  that  the  sensory  elements 
impress  themselves  upon  it,  but  that  its  activity  is  de- 
termined rather  by  the  stimuli  themselves  than  by  a 
conscious  end  or  interest  of  the  mind.  The  process  is 
much  like  that  already  studied  in  sensation  (page  44). 
In  the  latter  the  nervous  change  in  the  brain  serves 
as  a stimulus  to  the  sensitive  activity  of  the  mind,  and 
the  latter  responds  mechanically  with  the  sensation. 
In  association  this  sensation  acts  as  a stimulus  to  the 
apperceiving  activity  of  self,  and  it  responds  mechani- 
cally by  combining  it  with  others. 

Simplicity.  — The  stimuli  which  affect  the  mind 


92 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


must  be  of  lilce  character.  This  does  not  require  that 
thejr  should  be  of  the  same  sense;  it  only  requires  that 
there  should  be  no  striking  incongruity  or  incompatibil- 
ity between  them.  There  must  be  no  such  conflict  be- 
tween them  as  would  compete  for  the  apperceiving  ac- 
tivity, so  that  the  latter  must  make  a distinction  be- 
tween them.  All  ideas  of  any  degree  of  complexity 
do  have,  however,  factors  that  appear  non-hannonious, 
so  that  the  only  elements  which  can  fulfil  this  condition 
are  extremely  simple  ones — either  original  sensations, 
or  ideas  where  the  quality  of  likeness  predominates  over 
that  of  difference. 

Transition  to  Higher  Forms. — In  its  higher  forms, 
however,  the  associating  activity  passes  insensibly  into 
dissociation,  for  it  is  impossible  to  emphasize  the  pre- 
dominating quality  of  likeness  without,  partially  at 
least,  discriminating  the  unlike.  If,  for  example,  we 
associate  in  our  minds  a whale  with  a bear  because  of 
some  fundamental  identity  between  them,  as  that  both 
are  mammals,  it  is  because  we  can  sift  out  all  un- 
like qualities  and  disregard  them.  The  difference  be- 
tween association  and  dissociation  is  not  so  much  in 
the  modes  of  activity  as  in  the  elements  upon  which 
stress  is  laid.  Association  emphasizes  the  like  element ; 
dissociation  accentuates,  rather,  the  unlike,  and  while 
one  results  in  combination,  the  other  results,  rather,  in 
separation.  They  might  almost  be  treated,  therefore, 
as  two  sides  of  the  same  activity.  We  shall  draw  the 
line  simply  when  the  selective  activity  of  intelligence 
grows  more  apparent. 

B.  Forms  of  Associating  Activity. — We  now  inquire 
what  are  the  various  forms  or  modes  in  which  this  ac- 
tivity manifests  itself.  The  mind  binds  together  all 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


93 


actual  sensory  elements  into  a total  experience : this 
is  Presentative  Association.  It  also  hinds  together 
former  experiences  with  new  ones  which  suggest  the 
former:  this  is  Representative  Association.  The  two 
together  constitute  the  ordinary  train  of  ideas. 

Law  of  Presentative. — The  mind  connects  all  sensa- 
tions as  far  as  possible  into  one  total  maximum  expe- 
rience. If,  for  example,  the  eye  sees  a rod  striking  a 
surface  at  certain  intervals,  and,  at  the  same  periods, 
the  ear  hears  a noise,  the  two  will  go  together  into  one 
idea,  whether  or  not  they  have  a common  source.  Just 
so  two  events  occurring  at  about  the  same  time,  say  a 
rain  storm  and  a certain  phase  of  the  moon,  will  tend 
to  be  united.  The  tendency  to  shun  isolated  elements 
and  to  force  connections  wherever  possible  is  perhaps 
the  fundamental  law  of  mental  action. 

Importance  of  Law.  — This  law  economizes  mental 
force.  Ten  elements  united  into  one  idea  are  grasped 
and  carried  almost  as  easily  as  any  one  of  the  ten  sep- 
arately. Moreover,  through  this  tendency  to  connect 
the  mind  realizes  for  itself  the  maximum  of  siernifi- 
cance  ; it  gets  the  fullest  possible  experience  ; or,  if  we 
use  the  word  sensation  in  its  broadest  sense,  gets  the 
completest  and  richest  sensation.  The  mind’s  instinct 
for  a full  unity  often  leads  it  astray,  but  it  is  the  secret 
also  of  all  its  successes.  The  discovery  of  laws,  the 
classification  of  facts,  the  formation  of  a unified  mental 
world,  are  all  outgrowths  of  the  mind’s  hunger  for  the 
fullest  experience  possible  at  the  least  cost. 

Law  Illustrated. — Watch  a young  child  at  play  with 
a ball.  First,  perhaps,  he  spies  it  with  his  eyes,  get- 
ting a sensation  of  color.  This  sensation,  while  isolated, 
irritates  him.  He  must  get  the  ball  into  his  hands. 


94 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


This  done,  he  pokes  and  punches  it ; he  squeezes  and 
throws  it.  He  does  everything  to  get  the  maximum  of 
sensation  out  of  it.  Before  this,  probably,  he  has  put 
it  to  his  mouth  to  get,  if  possible,  sensations  of  taste. 
In  throwing  it,  he  has  heard  noises  as  it  struck.  He 
keeps  up  this  process  until  he  has  exhausted  the  sen- 
sations coming  from  this  object.  If  we  do  not  go 
through  this  same  process  in  adult  life,  it  is  partly 
from  acquired  self-restraint,  and  partly  because  one 
sensation  now  symbolizes  the  others  to  us.  But  the 
sign  in  art  galleries  that  canes  and  umbrellas  must 
be  left  outside  testifies  that  this  same  instinct  still 
endures.  The  continuous  union  of  the  varied 
sensations  into  one  whole  constitutes  presentative  — 
or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  simultaneous  — associa- 
tion. 

Fusion  or  Integration. — If  we  represent  the  isolated 
sensations  of  sight  by  A,  of  touch  by  B,  of  muscular 
sensation  by  C,  of  taste  by  D,  and  so  on,  the  outcome 
is  not  to  be  designated  by  A + B + C + D + E,  etc. 
Presentation  is  not  a mechanical  mosaic  of  indepen- 
dent sensations.  By  the  touch  sensation  the  color  is 
modified  into  a B ; muscular  sensation  changes  this 
into  abC' ; taste  sensations  modify  this  to  «'  /3cD'; 
sound  sensations  transform  this  to  a " f3'  y d E',  and  so 
on.  We  have,  that  is  to  say,  a continuous  whole  of 
sensation  constantly  undergoing  modification  and  con- 
stantly expanding,  but  never  parting  with  its  unity. 
This  process  may  be  termed  fusion  or  integration, 
to  indicate  the  fact  that  the  various  elements  are 
continually  entering  into  a whole  in  which  they  lose 
their  independent  existence.  Professor  James  illus- 
trates this  intimate  union  by  the  taste  of  lemonade. 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


95 


This  does  not  retain  unchanged  the  tastes  of  sugar 
and  of  lemon,  but  is  itself  a new  sensation  into  which 
the  old  ones  have  passed  as  elements.  What  associa- 
tion gives  us,  in  other  words,  is  not  loosely  con- 
nected aggregate  of  separable  parts,  but  a new  total 
experience. 

Transition  to  Representation.  — This  process  alone 
would  give  us  a series  of  presentations.  As  the  same 
elements  would  often  be  stimulated,  there  would  often 
be  a repetition  of  some  former  experience.  The  child, 
for  example,  who  played  with  a ball  yesterday  might 
play  with  another  to-day.  This  repeated  activity  of 
the  same  elements  undoubtedly  gives  a sense  of  famil- 
iarity to  the  presentation.  Some  new  sensations  may 
be  had  and  thus  the  presentation  further  expanded. 
But  there  would  be  as  yet  no  representation.  The  ob- 
ject known  is  still  actually  present.  Suppose,  however, 
that  while  the  ball  played  with  yesterday  was  black  and 
hard,  the  ball  handled  to-day  is  soft  and  red.  We  have 
a certain  core  of  identity  in  both  experiences.  Now, 
this  identity  will  strive  to  complete  itself  by  the  addi- 
tion of  all  connected  factors.  This  core  of  identity, 
the  “ball,”  is  only  a fragment,  and  the  other  frag- 
ments, the  blackness  and  the  hardness,  must  be  sup- 
plied in  order  that  the  maximum  of  meaning,  the 
whole  idea,  may  be  experienced.  Thus  the  idea  of 
the  hard  black  ball  will  be  formed.  But  there  is 
also  going  on  an  integration  of  sensations  of  red  and 
soft  with  the  “ ball.”  These  elements,  moreover,  be- 
ing occasioned  by  an  actual  peripheral  stimulus  of  the 
sense  organs,  will  surpass  in  intensity  the  centrally  ex- 
cited images  of  black  and  hard.  The  presentation  of 
the  red  soft  ball,  in  other  words,  will  displace  the  idea 


96 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  the  black  hard  ball.  The  latter,  however,  is  not 
destroyed.  _ It  is  simply  degraded  from  the  position 
of  an  actual  presentation.  It  becomes  a representa- 
tion. Or,  as  we  term  the  primary  process  of  associa- 
tion by  which  actual  sensory  elements  are  fused  inte- 
gration, we  may  term  this  extension  of  present  sen- 
sory elements  by  distinct  revival  of  past  elements 
redintegration. 

The  Train  of  Experiences. — Representative  associa- 
tion is  thus  only  a further  development  of  our  original 
principle— the  tendency  of  the  mind  to  work  towards 
a unified  totality.  The  totality  of  presentation  is  that 
of  elements  actually  experienced  at  the  time.  In  rep- 
resentation the  mind  enlarges  its  grasp.  It  enriches 
its  present  experience  by  supplying  the  results  of  pre- 
vious experiences.  Were  there  no  incongruity  or  oppo- 
sition between  the  present  and  the  past,  the  former 
would  undoubtedly  simply  be  absorbed  in  the  present, 
adding  to  its  meaning.  But  the  opposition  of  ele- 
ments, as  of  red  to  black  and  of  soft  to  hard,  prevents 
this  direct  absorption.  The  unlike  elements  are  forced 
into  independent  consciousness,  and,  being  weaker, 
take  the  form  of  representation.  By  this  extension  of 
our  experience  to  the  reproduction  of  former  pres- 
entations the  train  of  ideas  is  formed.  This  is  the 
succession  of  our  experiences  with  the  relative  pro- 
portion of  presentations  and  representations  ever 
waxing  and  waning.  This  train  does  not  differ  in 
principle  from  dissociation  and  attention,  to  be  studied 
later,  but  only  in  the  degree  in  which  it  is  controlled 
by  some  idea  or  end. 

Forms  of  Redintegration. — All  redintegration  rests 
on  identity  of  present  activity  with  some  past  activity. 


FKOCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


97 


This  identity,  however,  may  be  a comparatively  external 
one,  of  place  or  time  of  occurrence,  or  it  may  be  an  in- 
ternal one,  of  likeness  of  quality  or  content.  The 
former  is  generally  called  association  by  contiguity ; 
the  latter,  association  by  similarity.  An  example  will 
illustrate  their  difference.  At  some  time,  I have  seen 
in  the  post-office  a certain  person  ; these  two  elements, 
being  involved  in  the  same  act  of  apperception,  thus 
became  members  of  one  whole  idea.  To-day  I go  into 
the  post-office  again,  and  although  the  individual  is  not 
sensuously  present,  the  idea  of  him  immediately  occurs 
to  my  mind.  This  is  evidently  redintegration  by 
spatial  contiguity.  The  idea  which  occurs  to  me  upon 
entering  the  post-office  may,  however,  not  be  that  of 
any  one  ever  seen  there.  It  may  be  the  image  of  a 
post-office  in  some  other  town.  This  is  redintegration 
by  similarity. 

External  and  Internal  Association. — It  is  evident  the 
former  is  external  and  the  latter  internal.  There  is  no 
reason  internally  involved  in  the  idea  either  of  the 
man  or  the  post-office,  why  one  should  suggest  the 
other.  It  merely  happened  to  be  so.  It  was  an  affair 
of  circumstance.  In  the  other  case  the  connection  is 
intrinsic.  It  is  the  internal  identity  of  the  significance 
of  the  two  ideas  which  connects  them.  The  same  idea 
is  conveyed  by  both  to  the  mind.  It  is  the  principle 
of  identity  which  is  working  in  both  associations,  but 
in  that  by  contiguity  it  is  mere  identity  of  place  or 
time  of  happening.  There  is  no  need  that  they  should 
be  identical.  In  the  other  case  the  identity  is  neces- 
sary ; it  is  involved  in  the  very  existence  of  the  idea. 
In  all  cases  of  association  by  similarity,  some  partial 
identity  of  internal  significance  may  be  detected. 

5 


98 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


The  subject  of  connective  association  will  be  treated 
under  the  following  heads:  1.  Redintegration  by  con- 
tiguity ; 2.  By  similarity,  together  with  their  laws  and 
sub-varieties. 

X 1.  Association  by  Contiguity. — Its  law  is  as  follows: 
If  various  sensory  elements , or  even  ideas,  contiguous 
in  place  or  time , are  associated  simultaneously  in  one 
activity,  they  become  integral  portions  of  it  and  recur 
with  it.  Three  points  are  to  be  taken  up  in  connection 
with  it;  (1.)  The  original  union  of  elements  in  one  ac- 
tivity; (2.)  The  re-presentation  of  an  element  not  sen- 
suously present;  (3.)  Two  kinds  of  contiguous  associa- 
tion, spatial  and  temporal. 

(1.)  The  student  must  carefully  avoid  identifying  an 
idea  with  some  one  of  the  factors  into  which  it  may 
be  analyzed.  The  neglect  of  this  caution  has  led  to 
needless  discussion  as  to  the  number  of  ideas  which 
may  be  present  in  the  mind  at  once,  some  holding  that 
only  one  idea  can  exist  at  a time  ; others,  that  a much 
larger  number  may  be  present.  The  truth  is  that  there 
can  be  but  one  idea  present  in  the  mind  at  a time,  but 
this  one  idea  may  have  an  indefinite  number  of  sub- 
ordinate ideas  co-existing  within  it.  There  can  be  but 
one  idea,  for  the  associating  activity  necessarily  com- 
bines into  one  all  that  is  presented  to  it  at  once. 

Illustration. — When  I open  my  eyes  upon  a room 
full  of  people,  it  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  I have  as 
many  ideas  as  there  are  people  and  things  in  the  room, 
and  then  make  these  into  one  idea  by  a process  of 
patchwork.  The  very  apperception  consists  simply  in 
uniting  these  various  elements  in  one  whole;  it  does 
not  exist  until  they  have  been  united.  The  separation 
of  this  whole  into  its  constituent  elements  is  a later 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


99 


act.  The  same  holds  true  of  successive  elements. 
When  I listen  to  a spoken  sentence  I do  not  apperceive 
separately  each  sound,  and  then  piece  them  together. 
I take  in  the  idea  of  the  whole  sentence.  The  ana- 
lytic recognition  of  separate  elements  is  a later  process. 
Psychologically,  the  synthesis  precedes  analysis. 

(2.)  Representation. — The  understanding  of  this  fact 
is  necessary  to  any  comprehension  of  redintegration  by 
contiguity.  Were  the  ideas  which  are  recalled  orig- 
inally separated  and  isolated  atoms,  nothing  less  than  a 
miracle  could  explain  the  possibility  of  their  recur- 
rence. We  should  have  to  suppose  that,  in  someway, 
these  ideas  were  preserved  in  a storehouse  of  the  mind, 
and  that  when  some  other  idea  occurred  which  dwelt 
next  to  some  one  of  them,  it  had  the  power  of  com- 
pelling its  neighbor  to  appear  in  consciousness  also. 
But  there  is  no  ground  for  supposing  the  existence  of 
any  such  limbo  of  ideas,  or  of  any  process  of  resurrec- 
tion. ISTor  is  the  supposition  necessary  to  account  for 
the  representation  of  an  experience. 

Explanation  of  Representation. — Recognizing  that 
ideas  were  once  organic  members  of  the  same  activity 
of  mind,  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  they  recur.  The 
activity  will  recur  whenever  the  mind  acts  in  the  same 
way  again.  The  elements  occur  because  they  are  por- 
tions, members,  of  this  one  activity.  If  we  draw  one 
end  of  a stick  towards  us,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the 
other  end  comes  too;  or  if  we  spur  one  flank  of  a horse, 
it  requires  no  miracle  to  explain  why  the  other  flank 
moves  too.  There  is  but  one  rod,  and  one  horse.  So 
there  is  but  one  idea.  Getting  hold  of  any  part  of 
it,  it  is  necessary  that  the  other  parts  should  follow. 
If  the  perception  of  a flower  recalls  the  spot  where  I 


100 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


picked  it,  it  is  because  the  flower  and  the  place  are 
members  of  the  same  whole;  they  are  organically  united 
in  the  same  activity  of  apperception  ; one  has  no  men- 
tal existence  without  the  other.  The  difficulty,  accord- 
ingly, is  not  in  explaining  why  redintegration  some- 
times takes  place,  but  in  explaining  why  it  does  not 
always  occur.  This  will  be  explained  under  the  head 
of  dissociation. 

(3.)  Forms  of  Contiguous  Association. — Elements  are 
thus  redintegrated  which  have  been  contiguous  with 
the  presented  element  either  in  space  or  in  time. 

(a.)  Spatial  Association. — It  is  through  this  kind  of 
suggestion  that  upon  seeing  a building  we  form  a men- 
tal image  of  the  street  in  which  it  is,  or  of  the  whole 
town.  Through  it  we  form  such  connections  as  the 
suggestion  of  a lecture,  or  of  the  man  who  delivered 
it,  upon  seeing  the  lecture-hall.  It  covers  all  cases 
where  one  element  recalls  some  other  which  has  been 
coexistent  with  it  in  space.  It  is  an  important  mode 
of  connection,  both  because  of  the  ease  with  which  it 
is  cultivated,  and  because  of  the  results  which  it  has  in 
psychical  life.  Its  ease  of  cultivation  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  w’e  get  the  larger  number  of  our  ideas  through 
sight,  and  sight  is  pre-eminently  the  spatial  sense.  To 
see  a thing  is  synonymous  with  clear  knowledge  of  it. 
That  principle  of  modern  pedagogy  that  wrholes  shall 
be  presented  to  the  child  before  parts,  and  the  other 
one,  that  the  child  shall  see  the  objects  about  which  he 
learns,  are  based,  in  their  usefulness,  upon  this  law  of 
association. 

Spatial  Association  in  Language. — The  fact  that 
words  denoting  spiritual  and  ideal  processes  were  orig- 
inally words  which  signified  material  things  existing  in 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


101 


space,  serves  still  further  to  illustrate  the  importance 
of  this  kind  of  association.  In  the  early  history  of 
the  race  the  occurrence  of  a psychical  process  was  so 
closely  connected  with  its  physical  accompaniment  or 
embodiment  that  the  two  were  confounded.  The  soul 
was  breath,  to  comprehend  was  to  grasp  together,  etc. 
The  process  is  still  more  clearly  illustrated  in  the 
names  given  to  material  objects.  These  were  almost 
always  some  quality  of  them  which  appealed  to  sight, 
and  hence  was  capable  of  spatial  association.  So  the 
moon  was  the  measurer ; the  earth  was  the  ploughed ; 
wheat  was  the  white,  etc.  The  race,  as  the  individual, 
begins  its  life  in  captivity  to  external  associations,  and 
it  is  only  by  slow  processes  that  the  mind  is  freed  from 
them  and  learns  to  grasp  the  ideal,  the  internal  signifi- 
cance. The  naturalness  of  the  association  of  spiritual 
states  and  the  ideal  with  spatial  things  is  illustrated 
by  the  poet,  who  reverses  the  process  just  mentioned, 
and  embodies  these  in,  or  finds  them  illustrated  by,  nat- 
ural objects.  The  personification  of  objects,  and  the 
attributing  of  aspirations,  sympathies,  and  moods  to 
nature,  are  due  largely  to  spatial  association. 

( b .)  Teni'poral  Contiguity. — A simple  illustration  of 
this  kind  of  association  is  seen  in  illustrating  the  alpha- 
bet, where  the  sound  of  a calls  up  b,  b suggests  c,  etc. 
It  is  important  to  notice  that  temporal  association  af- 
fects, as  a rule,  only  the  order  of  the  connection  ; a 
will  call  up  b,  but  b fails  to  redintegrate  a.  The  rea- 
son for  this  seems,  however,  to  be  rather  in  the  fre- 
quency with  which  the  same  act  has  been  repeated 
than  in  the  nature  of  the  association.  Had  a been  as- 
sociated with  b but  once,  b would  probably  suggest  a 
as  easily  as  it  now  calls  up  c.  Repetition  in  the  same 


102 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


order  lias  made  this  order  a part  of  the  activity,  and 
hence  one  of  the  elements  recalled.  The  fact  that  the 
words  of  a sentence,  if  repeated  but  once,  suggest  each 
other  in  a certain  order,  and  not  in  the  reverse,  is  due 
to  the  aiding  of  one  association  by  the  sense  of  the 
passage.  In  fact,  it  is  in  forming  the  proper  order  , 
that  the  cultivation  of  temporal  association  consists. 

Illustrations. — It  will  be  noticed  that  hearing  is  the 
sense  of  temporal  associations  as  sight  is  of  spatial. 
Speech,  music,  etc.,  are  dependent  for  their  existence 
upon  the  formation  of  regular  associations  in  time. 
The  “learning  to  speak”  by  a child  consists,  for  one 
thing,  in  forming  a consecutive  series  of  associations, 
so  that  one  sound  calls  up  another.  The  association 
of  the  name  with  the  object  is,  however,  a case  of  spa- 
tial association.  Sight,  by  virtue  of  its  muscular  con- 
nections, plays  a large  role  in  forming  temporal  associ- 
ations, as,  for  example,  in  reading. 

Composite  Associations. — The  majority  of  associa- 
tions are  complex,  involving  spatial  and  temporal  asso- 
ciations together  with  simultaneous  fusion.  This  may 
be  illustrated  in  such  well-defined  associations  as  walk- 
ing, speaking,  playing  a musical  instrument,  etc.  Learn- 
ing to  walk  consists  first  in  the  formation  of  a tempo- 
ral association,  so  that  each  muscular  grouping  does  not 
have  to  be  thought  of  and  willed  separately,  but  the 
appearance  of  one  of  the  series  serves  to  redintegrate 
each  of  the  others.  There  is  also  involved  spatial  as- 
sociation, for  no  movement  can  be  performed  by  one 
muscle  alone.  The  commencement  of  contraction  by 
some  one  muscle  must  immediately  call  forth  the  ac- 
tivities of  other  muscles,  some  of  which  reinforce  this, 
while  others  counteract  it  and  preserve  the  equilib- 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


103 


rium  of  the  body.  Fusion  also  comes  in  inseparably  to 
weld  these  associations  together. 

Speech. — Language  involves  a threefold  association 
at  least.  The  sound  must  be  associated  with  the  pre- 
sented object,  through  a tactual  or  visual  sensation  gen- 
erally ; it  must  be  associated  with  the  idea  of  the  ob- 
ject, so  that  it  shall  convey  meaning  even  when  the 
object  is  not  present;  and  it  must  be  associated  with 
the  muscular  sensation  which  corresponds  to  the  ten- 
sion, etc.,  necessary  to  produce  the  sound.  If  any  one 
of  the  elements  is  lacking,  a corresponding  defect  -of 
speech  occurs.  In  educated  persons,  two  further  asso- 
ciations are  added.  There  is  an  association  with  the 
visual  sensation  of  the  printed  or  written  appearance 
of  the  word  so  that  it  may  be  read ; and  there  is  asso- 
ciation with  the  muscular  sensation  which  is  required 
to  write  it.  The  student  may  develop  for  himself  the 
associations  involved  in  playing  a musical  instrument 
by  note. 

2.  Redintegration  by  Similarity. — The  law  of  asso- 
ciation by  similarity  is  as  follows:  If  any  activity  has 
frequently  recurred , any  element  often  occurring  gains 
in  redintegrating  power  at  the  expense  of  those  occur- 
ring less  often , and  will  finally  gain  the  power  of  act- 
ing independently , so  as  itself  to  redintegrate  ideas  by 
the  law  of  contiguity.  An  example  will  serve  to  bring 
out  the  meaning  of  this  law.  Let  us  take  again  the 
association  of  the  man  with  the  post-office.  "Were  we 
always  to  see  the  same  man  in  the  same  post-office, 
and  only  him,  association  by  contiguity  would  never 
pass  into  association  by  similarity.  But  this  is  not  the 
case.  "We  see  other  men  and  things  in  the  post-office. 
We  see  this  man  in  other  places.  Thus  there  arise  as- 


104 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sociations  with  the  post-office  which  are  unlike  each 
other  in  most  elements.  The  onlyjthoroughly  constant 
element  is  that  of  the  post-office  itself.  It  is  evident 
that  the  less  necessary,  the  more  accidental,  are  the  ele- 
ments involved,  the  more  they  will  vary,  and  hence 
tend  to  crowd  each  other  out,  while  the  internal  ele- 
ment, in  this  case,  the  very  idea  of  the  post-office,  will 
remain  constant.  Thus  it  is  that  external  redintegra- 
tion, or  that  of  contiguity,  passes  into  internal,  that  of 
similarity.  We  take  up:  (1)  conditions  of  association 
by  similarity  ; (2)  its  forms. 

(1.)  Conditions. — These  are  : (a.)  Varying  concomi- 
tants; ( b .)  Analogy  of  feeling. 

(a.)  Varying  Concomitants.  — This  corresponds  to 
the  process  just  spoken  of  as  constituting  the  transition 
from  contiguous  to  similar  association,  and  its  3awr  may 
be  stated  as  follows  : If  one  given  element  has  been 
associated  at  various  times  with  various  elements  un- 
like each  other,  the  tendency  towards  the  redintegra- 
tion of  any  one  of  these  will  be  checked  by  an  equal 
tendency  towards  the  redintegration  of  each  of  the 
others,  so  that  the  one  permanent  element  will  be  set 
free  from  its  varying  accompaniments.  Thus,  if  abed 
have  been  at  one  time  associated  in  the  activity  x j at 
another  time,  aefg  in  the  activity  y ; and,  again,  ahij 
in  the  activity  of  z,  and  now  a recurs  again,  the  ten- 
dency towards  the  redintegration  of  any  given  element 
will  be  equally  assisted  and  equally  checked  in  every 
instance ; while  a itself  will  stand  out  with  triple  em- 
phasis. 

Illustration. — The  varying  concomitants  being  thus 
eliminated,  the  permanent  element  of  similar  charac- 
ter will  redintegrate  other  elements  by  the  subordinate 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


105 


action  of  the  law  of  contiguity.  For  example,  1 see  a 
portrait  and  there  immediately  comes  before  me  the 
idea  of  its  original  in  a position  where  I saw  him  at 
some  given  time.  By  the  action  of  the  pure  law  of 
contiguity  the  portrait  might  have  called  up  something 
entirely  different ; but  the  various  tendencies  in  differ- 
ent directions  check  each  other,  while  the  likeness  of 
each  of  the  parts  of  the  face,  eye,  ear,  mouth,  etc.,  with 
the  face  of  the  original  strengthen  each  other,  and 
tend  towards  that  definite  form  of  redintegration. 

Farther  Illustration. — Or,  again,  I see  a St.  Bernard 
dog  from  my  window.  This  perception  may  call  up 
the  place  where  first  I saw  him,  or  the  idea  of  the  man 
whom  he  generally  accompanies.  This  is  evidently  by 
the  law  of  contiguity  purely.  Or  it  may  redintegrate 
the  idea  of  auother  St.  Bernard  dog  which  X once  saw 
somewhere  else.  The  first  step  is  the  exclusion  of  all 
associations  depending  upon  the  varying  circumstances, 
times,  and  places  of  previous  perceptions  of  St.  Ber- 
nard dogs,  and  the  emphasizing  of  the  identical  ele- 
ment— the  idea  of  a St.  Bernard  dog  itself.  Then  this 
element  operates  by  the  law  of  contiguity  and  calls  up 
the  surroundings  of  place  and  time  with  which  the 
idea  of  a St.  Bernard  dog,  although  not  this  one,  was 
once  associated. 

( b .)  Analogy  of  Feeling. — Its  law  may  be  stated  as 
follows : At  any  given  time  only  those  ideas  will  be 
redintegrated  which  are  of  like  emotional  tone  with 
the  mood  then  present.  Ideas  quite  dissimilar  in  in- 
tellectual content  may  thus  serve  to  call  up  each  other. 
The  train  of  ideas  in  a cheerful  mood  differs  from  that 
which  goes  on  in  a melancholy  state.  A mood  may 
indeed  become  so  dominant  as  to  entirely  govern  the 
5- 


106 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


course  of  images  and  ideas.  A present  sorrow  may  so 
darken  the  mind  that  it  can  find  no  joyous  experiences 
in  the  past.  A present  happiness  may  effectually  ex- 
clude all  recollection  of  past  sorrows.  In  all  cases  we 
are  able  to  call  up  experiences  of  past  events  most  ef- 
fectually when  we  can  assume  a mood  congruous  to 
that  in  which  the  events  occurred. 

Importance  of  Feeling  in  Association. — Feeling,  in 
all  cases,  seems  to  serve  as  a matrix  in  which  ideas  are 
embedded,  and  by  which  they  are  held  together.  There 
is  no  more  permanent  tie  between  ideas  than  this  iden- 
tity-of  emotion.  The  power  of  a flag  to  awaken  patri- 
otic ideas  and  resolves,  of  a cross  to  arouse  religious 
meditation  or  devout  action,  is  due  to  the  tie  of  feeling 
rather  than  to  that  of  intellectual  process.  The  same 
fact  governs  the  higher  flights  of  oratory  and  the  proc- 
esses of  poetic  production.  In  oratory,  indignation, 
enthusiasm,  some  passion,  brings  the  whole  resource  of 
the  mind  to  bear  upon  the  point  at  issue.  The  inten- 
sity of  feeling  shuts  out  from  the  discourse  all  inhar- 
monious images  and  irrelevant  ideas  far  more  effectu- 
ally than  any  direct  purpose  of  attention  could  bring 
about.  The  contingent  and  accidental  detail  that  usu- 
ally accompany  the  course  of  our  ideas  vanishes,  and 
they  follow  each  other  in  an  original  and  vital  unity, 
a unity  which  reflective  thought  may  imitate,  but  only 
overmastering  emotion  produce. 

In  Poetry. — The  poet  not  only  detects  subtler  anal- 
ogies than  other  men,  and  perceives  the  subtle  link  of 
identity  where  others  see  confusion  and  difference, 
but  the  form  of  his  expression,  his  language,  images, 
etc.,  are  controlled  also  by  deeper  unities.  These  uni- 
ties are  unities  of  feeling.  The  objects,  the  ideas,  con- 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


107 


nected  are  perhaps  remote  from  each  other  to  intel- 
lect, but  feeling  fuses  them.  Unity  of  feeling  gives 
artistic  unity,  wholeness  of  effect,  to  the  composition. 
When  unity  is  wanting  there  is  no  poetry ; where  the 
unity  is  one  of  reflection,  purpose,  or  argument,  we  in- 
stinctively feel  that  the  composition  approaches  prose. 
It  is  the  analogy  of  feeling,  the  identity  of  noble  or 
impassioned  emotion,  which  creates  unity  of  substance 
and  unity  of  form,  insuring  apt  transition,  appropri- 
ate images  and  metaphors,  harmonious  setting  in  style 
of  metre,  rhyme,  etc. 

Analogies  of  Sensation. — There  are  various  associa- 
tions among  sensations  which  would  be  inexplicable 
were  it  not  for  this  associating  effect  of  feeling.  We 
regard  tones  as  high  and  low,  although  they  have  no 
spatial  quality ; colors  are  soft,  although  they  offer  no 
pressure  to  touch  ; and  contact  may  be  sweet,  although 
it  cannot  be  tasted.  We  express  our  likes  and  dislikes 
by  the  terms  delicious  and  disgusting.  “ Taste  ” is  the 
arbiter  of  aesthetic  productions.  Men  are  upright  and 
base ; hearts  are  hollow  and  Arm  ; characters  are  white 
and  black.  In  some  cases  the  association  extends  so 
far  that  persons,  on  seeing  certain  colors,  hear  certain 
sounds  (phonisms),  or,  more  often,  on  hearing  sounds, 
see  colors  (photisms). 

(2.)  Forms. — Three  forms  of  redintegration  b}T  simi- 
larity may  be  noticed  : ( a ) by  resemblance;  ( b ) by  con- 
trast; (c)  by  assimilation. 

(a.)  Association  by  Resemblance.  — It  has  been  al- 
ready noticed  that  association  by  similarity  is  a higher 
kind  than  that  by  contiguity.  It  depends  upon  like- 
ness of  meaning  or  internal  content,  not  upon  accident 
of  time  or  place.  The  intellectual  power  of  mind  is 


108 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


accordingly  largely  determined  by  the  relative  predom- 
inance of  either  kind  over  the  other.  One  individual 
never  gets  beyond  outer  connection ; he  is  taken  up 
with  accidental  circumstances  and  contingent  events. 
Another  mind  pierces  through  this  external  husk,  and 
connects  objects  by  some  fundamental  relation  of  like- 
ness. The  former  remembers  an  historical  event  by 
placing  it  on  a chart,  or  associating  it  with  some  position 
on  the  page  of  a book  which  relates  it ; the  latter  remem- 
bers it  by  its  causal  connection  with  other  events.  To 
the  peasant  the  falling  apple  redintegrates  only  spatial 
associations  of  its  pleasant  taste;  to  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
its  resemblance  to  all  falling  bodies  suggested  the  law 
of  gravitation. 

Place  in  Mental  Life.  — The  connection  of  each 
with  the  very  structure  of  psychical  life  is  no  less  im- 
portant. Facts  or  events  connected  by  local  associa- 
tion burden  the  mind,  for  they  have  no  necessary  or 
intrinsic  connection  with  each  other.  They  are  so 
much  material  which  the  mind  must  carry  by  main 
force.  If  the  accidental  association  of  place  or  time  is 
let  go,  all  is  gone.  The  connection  by  similarity  is  in- 
ternal, and  involved  in  the  very  nature  of  the  ideas. 
They  would  not  be  what  they  are  except  for  this  prop- 
erty of  likeness  to  some  other  ideas.  The  tie  between 
them  is  natural,  and  it  broadens  the  mind  therefore, 
and  does  not  burden  it.  Such  a connection,  instead  of 
requiring  to  be  carried  by  the  mind,  forms  part  of  its 
carrying  power.  It  is  one  of  the  links  forming  the 
chain  of  memory  which  holds  ideas  together.  The 
difference  between  the  two  kinds  of  association,  in  their 
effect  upon  mental  life,  has  been  aptly  illustrated  by 
comparing  one  to  food  carried  in  a bundle  strapped 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


109 


upon  the  back,  and  the  other  to  food  eaten,  digested, 
and  wrought  over  into  the  bones  and  muscles  which 
hold  the  body  firm  and  solid.  One  uses  up  the  power 
of  the  mind,  the  other  adds  to  it. 

Two  Classes  of  Minds.  — Even  those  minds  which 
use  especially  association  by  resemblance  may  be  di- 
vided into  two  classes.  There  are  those  which  simply 
use  the  bond  of  resemblance  in  passing  from  one  idea 
to  another,  and  there  are  those  which  notice  the  tie. 
The  former  are  the  persons  of  artistic  temperament, 
those  of  quick  and  keen  intuitive  power.  The  latter 
are  those  of  a scientific  turn  of  mind,  of  reflective  and 
deliberative  power.  The  former  pass  over  the  path  of 
resemblance,  but  are  so  taken  up  with  the  goal  that 
they  pay  no  attention  to  the  road  that  takes  them 
thither.  They  proceed  by  analogy,  the  striking  simile, 
and  the  quick  metaphor.  They  express  in  a single  sen- 
tence what  years  of  reflective  study  may  not  exhaust, 
the  subtle  and  hidden  connections,  the  points  of  iden- 
tity with  the  whole  framework  of  truth  are  so  many 
and  deep.  Such  minds  are  the  world’s  artists  and 
teachers.  The  others  wish  to  know  every  step  of  the 
road,  the  way  in  which  each  part  of  it  is  connected 
with  every  other,  and  how  all  conduct  to  the  goal. 
They  are  the  world’s  investigators  and  formulators. 

(b.)  Association  by  Contrast. — It  is  a striking  exten- 
sion of  the  law  of  similarity  that  opposites  tend  to  re- 
call each  other  as  well  as  those  which  resemble  each 
other.  A mouse  may  suggest  an  elephant;  sorrow  call 
up  joy;  a dwarf,  a giant;  vice,  virtue,  etc.  When 
connected  with  contiguous  association  its  operation  is 
still  more  marked.  The  sight  of  a mountain  in  juxta- 
position to  a valley,  the  occurrence  of  an  act  of  great 


110 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


generosity  after  one  of  striking  meanness  of  nature, 
constitute  associations  of  great  force  and  tenacity.  But 
it  introduces  us  to  no  new  principle.  Contrast  in- 
volves similarity.  We  contrast  the  extremes  of  some- 
thing fundamentally  like  in  nature.  The  dwarf  and 
giant  are  connected  by  the  common  element  of  size; 
generosity  and  meanness  by  their  relation  to  moral  ac- 
tion. Black  and  white  are  but  the  extremes  of  the 
common  quality,  color.  Such  cases  only  emphasize 
the  common  feature  at  bottom  by  manifesting  it  in  di- 
verse forms. 

(c.)  Assimilation.  — This  is,  in  reality,  a complex 
form  of  association,  uniting  the  two  principles  of  con- 
tiguity and  similarity,  and  in  its  results  like  that  of 
simultaneous  association  or  fusion.  In  association  by 
fusion  some  one  element  always  stands  out  more  prom- 
inently than  others.  It  serves  to  represent  the  others, 
or  acts  as  their  bearer  or  carrier.  They  are  more  or 
less  absorbed  in  it.  In  sound,  for  example,  the  partial 
tones  are  lost  in  the  fundamental.  They  have  a very 
important  part  in  determining  the  character  of  the  fused 
product,  yet  they  have  lost  independent  existence.  So 
in  flavors,  the  touch  and  odor  sensations  are  lost  in  the 
taste.  In  all  perceptions  where  visual  sensations  are 
involved  the  latter  stand  out  most  prominently.  The 
result  is  that  this  more  prominent  element  gains  great- 
ly in  associative  power,  and,  when  occurring  at  any 
time,  redintegrates  all  these  elements  formerly  fused 
with  it,  which  are  immediately  assimilated  to  it. 

Illustration. — This  may  be  illustrated  by  the  visual 
perception  of  an  orange.  Here  the  only  presented  sen- 
sation is  that  of  color.  This  color,  however,  by  virtue 
of  its  predominance  in  all  former  perceptions,  has  just 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


Ill 


the  same  independent  redintegrating  power  as  the 
identical  element  in  association  by  similarity,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  call  up  the  elements  of  taste,  size,  weight, 
odor,  etc.,  which  had  been  formerly  fused  with  it. 
These,  however,  do  not  get  a separate  existence  as  in 
the  other  forms  of  successive  association  which  we 
have  studied,  but  are  assimilated  to  the  color  sensation, 
so  that  there  results  but  one  complex  idea.  All  per- 
ceptions of  things  illustrate  the  same  process.  In  re- 
sult, therefore,  it  does  not  differ  from  simultaneous  as- 
sociation. As  a process,  it  approaches  association  by 
similarity. 

C.  The  Function  of  Association  in  Psychical  Life. 
— Having  studied  the  nature  and  kinds  of  association, 
we  turn  to  a consideration  of  the  part  which  it  plays 
in  building  up  psychical  life.  What  end  does  it  serve ; 
what  are  its  effects  and  its  purpose?  In  general  the 
function  of  association  in  the  psychical  life  is  the  for- 
mation of  a mechanism.  It  serves  to  connect  the  vari- 
ous elements  of  our  mental  life  together  by  such  firm 
bands  that  they  may  be  used  as  a foundation  upon 
which  to  erect  more  complex  mental  structures.  It 
takes  isolated  sensations  and  consolidates  them.  It 
takes  chaotic  material  and  it  gives  it  definite  form, 
consisting  of  a number  of  specialized  modes  of  activity. 
The  state  of  the  mind  without  associations  may  be 
compared  to  a fluid ; that  on  which  the  associative 
powers  have  been  at  work  to  this  fluid  crystallized, 
thus  made  into  solid  forms  of  positive  shape  and  defi- 
nite relation  to  each  other. 

Habit. — More  specifically,  all  that  we  call  routine  or 
habit,  all  that  is  mechanical  in  the  life  of  the  soul,  is 
the  result  of  associative  activities.  The  way  in  which 


112 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


habits  are  formed  will  throw  considerable  light  upon 
the  matter.  By  habit,  whether  intellectual  or  voli- 
tional, we  mean  nothing  else  than  such  a connection  of 
ideas  or  acts  that,  if  one  be  presented,  the  rest  of  the 
series  follow  without  the  intervention  of  consciousness 
or  the  will.  It  is,  in  short,  a form  of  successive  asso- 
ciation where  one  element  redintegrates  the  next,  and 
so  on.  It  differs  from  ordinary  association  in  the  fact 
that  in  the  latter  the  number  of  varying  elements  is 
large,  and  consequently  the  precise  channel  which  the 
suggestion  of  ideas  will  follow  cannot  be  told,  while  in 
habit  the  activity  has  been  so  repeatedly  performed  in 
one  way  that  a definite  groove  of  succession  has  been 
occasioned. 

Illustration. — The  law  of  the  formation  of  habit  is 
that  all  successive  associations  constantly  recurring  in 
the  same  form  tend  to  become  simultaneous.  It  may 
be  illustrated  in  the  case  of  walking.  This  is  a true 
habit,  because  given  the  initial  act,  all  the  other  acts 
necessary  to  locomotion  follow  naturally,  without  the 
intervention  of  consciousness,  and  even  while  con- 
sciousness is  occupied  with  something  entirely  differ- 
ent. The  formation  of  the  habit  consisted,  in  the  first 
place,  in  the  formation  of  a series  of  successive  associa- 
tions. In  this  series  the  presence  of  any  act  was  a 
sign  to  consciousness  that  the  next  act  ought  to  be 
performed  ; each  redintegrated  the  next.  The  child 
cannot  walk  at  first,  not  for  the  reason  that  his  muscles 
will  not  contract,  but  because  no  association  has  been 
formed  such  that  any  one  contraction  leads  to  the  next 
of  the  series.  This  is  only  serial  association  however ; 
not  yet  habit.  This  arises  when  the  association  has 
been  so  often  performed  that  one  act  not  only  serves 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


113 


as  a sign  to  consciousness  that  the  next  must  be  per- 
formed, but  when  the  sign  has  become  fused  with  the 
act  signified.  It  is  like  the  rapid  rotation  of  a point 
of  light.  Each  becomes  fused  with  the  next,  and  the 
successive  series  appears  as  a coexistent  circle.  So  in 
the  formation  of  the  habit  of  walking,  the  various  acts 
necessary  for  its  performance  no  longer  form  separate 
successive  members  of  a series,  but  the  end  of  one  is 
the  beginning  of  another. 

Habit  as  Automatic  and  Mechanical. — The  habitual 
act  thus  occurs  automatically  and  mechanically.  When 
we  say  that  it  occurs  automatically,  we  mean  that  it 
takes  place,  as  it  were,  of  itself,  spontaneously,  with- 
out the  intervention  of  will.  By  saying  that  it  is  me- 
chanical we  mean  that  there  exists  no  consciousness  of 
the  process  involved,  nor  of  the  relation  of  the  means, 
the  various  muscular  adjustments,  to  the  end,  locomo- 
tion. The  various  steps  of  the  process  follow  each  other 
as  unconsciously  as  the  motions  of  a loom  in  weaving. 
The  tendency  of  habit  is  thus  to  the  formation  of  a 
mechanism  which  the  mind  may  employ  and  direct, 
but  which,  once  started,  goes  of  itself.  This  constitutes 
the  special  function  of  habit,  or  of  association. 

The  Twofold  End  of  Habit. — Habit  (1)  thus  forms 
a self-executing  mechanism  whereby  the  mind  appre- 
hends readily  and  expeditiously  those  elements  in  its 
cognitive  life  which  are  regularly  recurring,  and  adjusts 
itself  in  its  actions  to  the  permanent  demands  of  its 
surroundings;  and  thereby  (2)  enables  conscious  intel- 
ligence to  devote  itself  to  the  apprehension  of  variable 
elements,  and  the  will  to  apply  itself  to  the  mastery  of 
novel  and  changing  acts.  The  object  of  habit  is  thus, 
on  the  one  hand,  to  create  a mechanism  which  shall 


m 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


attend  to  the  familiar  and  permanent  elements  of  ex- 
perience, and,  on  the  other,  to  leave  the  conscious  ac- 
tivity of  mind  free  to  control  new  and  variable  fac- 
tors. 

1.  There  are  certain  elements  in  our  surroundings 
and  in  our  wants  which  are  comparatively  permanent. 
Both  in  relation  to  ordinary  psychical  life,  and  as  the 
basis  of  higher  activities,  these  constant  factors  are  all- 
important.  Such  elements  are  to  the  child,  his  parents, 
his  nurse,  the  room  in  which  he  lives,  his  playthings, 
etc.  If  there  were  no  power  of  forming  habits,  if  the 
sight  of  the  child’s  food,  of  his  nurse,  etc.,  appealed  to 
him  in  no  different  way  the  second  and  third  time  than 
the  first;  if  associations  did  not  cluster  about  his  play- 
things with  every  time  that  they  are  employed  ; if 
the  muscular  adjustments  which  he  makes  in  dressing 
himself  did  not  grow  fused  into  a series  by  repetition 
— it  is  evident  that  the  child  would  remain  ignorant 
in  mind,  empty  of  feeling,  and  helpless  in  action. 

Extension  of  Range. — As  years  advance  the  range 
of  things  and  events  with  which  the  mind  comes  in  con- 
tact increases,  but  there  remains  a certain  set  of  objects 
which  appeals  to  it,  and  constitutes  its  familiar  and 
important  environment,  as  others  do  not.  About  this 
permanent  environment  cluster  the  interests  of  the 
individual,  and  group  the  activities  of  psychical  life. 
It  is  the  centre  of  gravity  of  the  spiritual  world.  It  is 
constituted,  on  the  one  hand,  by  the  simple  facts  of 
family,  business,  church,  and  social  life;  on  the  other, 
by  the  objects  which  present  themselves  most  regular- 
ly, varying  with  the  man  of  affairs,  the  artist,  and  the 
man  of  science.  But,  in  all  cases,  it  is  of  the  highest 
importance  that  the  individual’s  response  to  these  per- 


PROCESSES  OP  KNOWLEDGE. 


115 


manent  surroundings  should  not  be  dependent  upon 
conscious  reflection  nor  careful  deliberation.  It  is 
necessary  that  his  response  should  be  automatic  and 
mechanical,  that  it  may  be  prompt,  speedy,  effectual, 
and  invariable.  The  person  must  be  instinctively 
linked  to  the  world  about  him,  both  the  social  world 
and  the  physical  world.  The  individual  is  thus  con- 
stituted an  organic,  integral  part  of  the  world  of  nature 
and  of  society,  and  the  latter  becomes  a whole,  capable 
of  combined  deliberation  and  action,  possessing  one 
will  and  a common  conscience. 

2.  But  the  other  side  is  no  less  important.  If  exist- 
ence depends  upon  adjustment  to  permanent  elements, 
growth  depends  no  less  upon  right  relation  to  chang- 
ing factors.  A life  of  complete  routine,  a condition  of 
fossilized  habit,  though  it  be  one  in  which  every  act 
corresponds  quickly  and  accurately  to  some  familiar 
feature  of  the  environment,  is  not  one  that  we  desire. 
We  want  change,  variety,  growth.  Only  as  we  famil- 
iarize ourselves  with  things  and  acts  once  strange,  only 
as  we  build  upon  the  foundation  of  habits  the  super- 
structure of  varying  activities,  is  psychical  life  rich 
and  manifold  and  progressive.  The  point  which  we 
are  to  notice  here  is,  that  this  power  of  adaptation  to 
new  circumstance,  the  ability  to  grow,  requires  the 
conscious  effort  of  intelligence  and  the  active  direction 
of  will,  and  that  this  can  be  given  only  upon  condition 
that  the  automatic  mechanism  of  the  soul  attends  to 
all  other  demands  made.  There  would  be  no  chance 
of  learning  a new  fact  or  mastering  a new  action,  were 
it  not  that  the  automatic  action  of  habit  takes  care  of 
all  old  and  familiar  experiences,  and  thus  leaves  con- 
cious  and  purposive  action  free. 


116 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


The  Unconscious  in  Psychical  Life. — It  has  been 
noticed  that  the  formation  of  habit,  when  once  it  has 
become  automatic  and  mechanical,  results  in  the  rele- 
gation of  ideas  which  once  were  conscious  to  the  sphere 
of  unconscious  action.  They  become  absorbed  or  lost. 
The  extent  to  which  this  may  go  is  disputed.  None, 
however,  deny  that  it  may  cover  such  actions  as  walk- 
ing, talking,  writing,  playing  a musical  instrument,  etc. 
Such  acts  are  called  secondarily  automatic,  because 
they  imitate  so  closely  automatic  actions,  like  the  beat- 
ing of  the  heart,  with  which  consciousness  has  no  con- 
cern. It  will  be  noticed  that  this  relegation  to  uncon- 
scious action  means  that  the  act  is  performed  by  the 
body,  consciousness  intervening  only  to  start  the  proc- 
ess, not  to  direct  each  of  its  stages. 

Other  Examples. — Other  examples  of  action  becom- 
ing so  habitual  that  it  is  performed  for  the  mind  by 
the  brain  or  body  are  probably  found  in  re-presenta- 
tion.  It  is  thought  that  every  re-presentation  is  ac- 
companied by  an  action  of  those  parts  of  the  brain 
which  were  originally  active  at  the  time  of  presenta- 
tion, and  that  a sensation,  similar  to  that  produced  by 
the  original  excitation  of  the  nerve  organ,  but  weaker, 
results.  (See  page  32.)  This  brain  excitation  may, 
however,  in  certain  cases,  be  so  intense  that  it  is  as 
vivid  as  the  original  external  stimulus,  and  the  indi- 
vidual will  consequently  confound  the  internally-ex- 
cited image  with  some  objective  reality.  This  is  the 
state  known  as  hallucination. 

Unconscious  Cerebration. — Others  claim  that  the  vi- 
carious action  of  the  nervous  system  for  the  mind, 
due  to  activities  so  often  repeated  that  they  have  be- 
come psychically  unconscious,  extends  to  higher  proc- 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


117 


esses,  like  thinking  out  complicated  problems,  laying 
plans,  producing  artistic  creations,  etc.  To  these  phe- 
nomena they  give  the  name  of  unconscious  cerebra- 
tions. The  extent  to  which  such  facts  actually  exist 
is  a matter  of  some  question,  but  it  can  hardly  be 
doubted  that  phenomena  of  this  kind  occur  which  it 
would  be  impossible  to  account  for  without  the  principle 
laid  down,  that  all  associations,  often  repeated,  tend  to 
become  simultaneous,  and  hence  unconscious.  It  is  no 
more  impossible  that  such  associations  should  result  in 
forming  automatic  connections  of  one  part  of  the  brain 
with  another,  than  that  they  should  result  in  connec- 
tions of  oue  part  of  the  muscular  system  with  anoth- 
er, such  as  we  certainly  find  in  acts  like  locomotion,  the 
playing  of  a musical  instrument,  etc. 

§ 4.  Dissociation. 

Dissociation  will  be  considered  under  the  following 
heads : I.  Relation  to  association ; II.  Conditions ; 
III.  Function  in  psychical  life. 

I.  The  law  of  dissociation,  stated  in  its  most  general 
form,  is  as  follows  : In  associating  sensuous  elements , the 
mind  never  gives  all  the  elements  egual  value,  but  em- 
phasizes some,  and  neglects  others.  The  statement  of 
this  law  shows  that  dissociation  always  presupposes 
association,  and  is  rather  one  aspect  of  it,  hitherto  over- 
looked, than  something  fundamentally  different.  We 
shall  take  up,  accordingly,  (1)  the  points  of  connection 
between  association  and  dissociation  ; and,  (2)  the  points 
of  difference,  the  phase  hitherto  passed  over. 

1.  Connection  of  Likeness. — Regarding  this,  in  a gen- 
eral way,  not  much  need  be  said.  Only  those  elements 
can  be  dissociated  or  disconnected  which  were  origi- 


118 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


nally  associated  or  connected.  Analysis  presupposes 
synthesis  (page  99).  Only  that  can  be  disintegrated 
which  was  once  a whole.  We  dissociate  the  idea  of  a 
man  from  that  of  a post-office  only  when  they  have 
been  at  some  time  combined.  We  separate  the  taste  of 
an  apple  from  that  of  its  color,  because  once  they  were 
parts  of  the  same  fused  product.  Dissociation,  in  short, 
is  not  absolute  separation,  but,  as  defined,  is  giving 
some  element  in  an  association  predominance  over  oth- 
ers. This  prominence  causes  it  to  stand  forth  with 
relative  independence,  while  the  unemphasized  ele- 
ments fall  into  the  background.  The  result  is  that 
they  appear  in  consciousness  as  freed  from  their  combi- 
nation into  one  and  the  same  whole. 

Illustration  in  Special  Forms  of  Association. — Dis- 
sociation is,  then,  not  a process  which  follows  after 
association  in  time,  but  one  which  accompanies  it. 
While  association  is  at  work  in  combining  elements 
into  a whole,  dissociation  is  active  in  emphasizing  some 
one  of  these  combined  elements,  and  thus  giving  it  a 
certain  independence  in  consciousness  of  the  other 
elements.  In  order  to  bring  out  this  factor,  which 
was  overlooked  in  the  discussion  of  association,  we 
shall  hastily  run  over  the  two  forms  of  simultaneous 
and  successive  association. 

(1.)  Simultaneous  Association.  — In  fusion  there  is 
something  more  than  a mere  conglomeration  or  consol- 
idation of  sensuous  elements.  In  the  integrated  total- 
ity (page  94),  some  one  element  stands  out  so  as  to  serve 
as  a bearer  or  representative  of  the  others.  They  are 
subordinated  to  it.  Generally  it  is  the  visual  sensation 
which  is  most  prominent,  while  the  muscular  sensations 
are  so  much  absorbed  that  we  rarely  notice  them  urn 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


119 


less  they  are  the  result  of  great  fatigue.  Now  this 
prominence  of  one  element  of  the  sensation  over  an- 
other in  fusion  makes  this  prominent  element  stand 
forth  more  distinctly  in  consciousness,  while  the  others 
are  thrust  into  the  background.  It  thus  partially  dis- 
severs them  from  each  other  and  gives  them  relatively 
independent  existences.  ^Just  in  the  degree  to  which 
this  process  of  relative  stress  and  neglect  is  carried, 
will  the  absolute  fixity  of  association  be  broken  up, 
till  finally  some  element  may  appear  in  consciousness 
alone. 

(2.)  Successive  Association. — Dissociation  is  involved 
here  to  a greater  extent  than  in  simultaneous.  In  con- 
tiguous association,  for  example,  not  every  element 
which  was  originally  contiguous  to  the  one  now  pre- 
sented is  re-presented  with  equal  force  and  vividness,  or 
even  re-presented  at  all.  There  is  in  every  occurrence 
almost  an  infinity  of  detail,  and  it  is  out  of  the  question 
that  it  should  be  all  redintegrated.  Were  it,  the  re- 
sult would  be  utter  confusion  of  mind,  for  each  of 
these  elements  is,  in  turn,  connected  with  an  immense 
number  of  other  elements,  each  of  which  would  be  re- 
dintegrated, and  so  on  indefinitely.  The  mind  would 
be  thus  kept  in  what  has  well  been  termed  the  tread- 
mill of  concrete  reminiscence.  It  would  be  in  bondage 
to  its  past  experiences;  still  more  it  would  be  as  much 
enslaved  by  one  element  of  experience  as  by  another. 
The  minutest  detail  would  exercise  the  same  overmas- 
tering force  as  the  most  momentous  factor,  or,  rath- 
er, there  would  be  no  distinction  between  minute  and 
important.  There  would  be  no  perspective,  no  back- 
ground nor  foreground,  in  psychical  life.  But,  as  mat- 
ter of  fact,  not  all  elements  do  thus  have  equal  value. 


120 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


In  associating  some  are  slurred  and  others  accentuated. 
This  is  still  more  clearly  seen  in  association  by  simi- 
larity, where  the  entire  emphasis  is  thrown  upon  the 
emphasized  identical  element.  In  fact,  association  by 
similarity  forms  the  natural  transition  to  dissociation, 
for  it  requires  the  disconnection  of  the  like  element 
from  the  unlike. 

2.  The  Points  of  Opposition  betioeen  Association 
and  Dissociation . — These  are  ultimately  reducible  to 
two.  (1)  Dissociation  requires  a number  of  factors  in 
the  elements  presented  so  dissimilar  as  to  compete  with 
each  other,  and  requires,  therefore,  (2)  a selecting  activi- 
ty of  the  mind  which  shall  neglect  some  and  emphasize 
others  at  their  expense.  Hence  the  process  of  disso- 
ciation is  more  complex  and  less  passive  than  that  of 
association.  Instead  of  combining  the  elements  pre- 
sented at  their  face  value,  it  weighs  them  with  each 
other,  and  stamps  one  as  worth  more  than  another.  It 
distinguishes,  or  makes  a difference.  Its  energy  is 
varied;  it  is  directed  in  at  least  two  directions.  It 
looks  be}rond  the  immediate  presence  of  the  elements, 
and  unconsciously  tests  them  by  some  standard,  the 
value  which  they  have  for  mental  life,  and  selects  ac- 
cordingly. In  dissociation  the  mind,  therefore,  is  ac- 
tively related  to  the  elements  concerned.  Instead  of 
having  the  direction  of  its  activities  determined  me- 
chanically, it  directs  them  according  to  its  own  ends 
and  interests.  This  brings  us  to  a study  of 

II.  The  Conditions  of  Dissociation. — These,  in  a gen- 
eral way,  we  have  just  seen  to  be  competing  or  incon- 
gruous elements  in  the  presentations,  together  with  se- 
lecting activity  of  the  mind.  We  have  now  to  discover 
what  features  render  the  presentations  incongruous,  and 


PKOCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


121 


what  it  is  that  gives  one  such  value  that  the  mind  se- 
lects it  to  the  exclusion  of  others.  We  have  to  recog- 
nize that  the  meaning  of  psychical  life  is  determined 
largely  by  the  differences  of  value  that  its  elements 
possess.  This  difference  of  value  is  not  due  to  their 
existence  as  data,  for  as  existences  each  is  worth  as  much 
as  every  other ; it  is  due  to  their  relation  to  the  mind, 
that  is,  to  the  interest  which  the  self  takes  in  them.  The 
interests  of  the  self  are  the  factor  which  is  influential 
in  breaking  up  the  hard  rigidity  of  a psychical  life 
governed  wholly  by  the  principle  of  association,  and 
introducing  flexibility  and  perspective  into  it.  In 
studying  the  conditions  of  dissociation,  we  have  to  dis- 
cover what  features  render  one  datum  more  interest- 
ing than  another : the  features  which  attract  the  mind. 
For  convenience  of  classification  these  attractive  feat- 
ures will  be  considered  under  two  heads : 1.  Natural 
value,  or  the  attraction  which  the  presentation  has  for 
the  mind  spontaneously,  independent  of  its  associa- 
tion with  other  members  of  consciousness  ; 2.  Acquired 
value,  or  the  attraction  which  it  has  by  virtue  of  its 
connection  with  other  factors  of  experience. 

1.  Natural  Value.  — Those  features  of  the  presen- 
tation which  interest  the  mind  through  their  intrin- 
sic characteristics  are  two  in  number,  quantity  and 
tone. 

(1.)  Quantity. — Other  things  being  equal,  stimuli  at- 
tract the  mind  in  proportion  to  their  quantity.  If,  for 
example,  there  are  presented  in  succession  or  simulta- 
neously, two  sounds,  one  feeble,  the  other  loud,  or  two 
colors,  one  obscure,  the  other  bright,  the  mind,  if  not 
otherwise  led  by  some  acquired  interest,  will  direct  its 
activity  to  the  stronger  and  neglect  the  weaker,  thus 
6 


122 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


partially  at  least  dissociating  them.  Quantity  includes 
intensity,  duration,  and  multiplication  of  stimuli.  A 
low  noise,  if  constantly  repeated,  may  possess  more 
quantity  and  hence  more  attractive  power  than  a loud 
noise  coming  at  less  frequent  intervals.  As  motion 
multiplies  greatly  the  intensity  of  a sensation,  the  well- 
known  fact  that  moving  objects  attract  the  mind  more 
than  those  at  rest  comes  under  this  head. 

(2.)  Tone. — Every  sensation,  by  virtue  of  its  quality, 
possesses  an  agreeable  or  disagreeable  property,  called 
tone,  which  serves  to  interest  the  mind  naturally  in  it, 
either  by  way  of  attraction  or  repulsion.  At  first,  the 
child’s  life  is  almost  wholly  one  of  organic  sensations, 
hunger,  thirst,  satisfaction,  fatigue.  These  have  the 
largest  natural  emotional  accompaniment.  At  first, 
they  absorb  about  all  psychical  activity.  Gradually 
taste  with  accompanying  smell  attracts  consciousness  to 
the  sapid  qualities  of  objects.  Meantime  there  is  go- 
ing on  a constant  overflow  of  muscular  activity  in  vari- 
ous directions,  and  the  pleasure  taken  in  this  free,  un- 
restrained movement  results  in  calling  the  mind  to 
those  features  of  objects  which  are  connected  with 
grasping  and  touching.  Then  the  peculiar  charm  of 
sweet  sounds  and  beautiful  colors  will  make  itself 
felt,  and  the  audible  and  visible  properties  of  bodies 
begin  to  stand  forth ; when  this  point  is  reached  qual- 
ity exercises  more  attractive  force  than  mere  quan- 
tity. 

Transition  to  Acquired  Interest. — Advance  in  psy- 
chical  life  depends  largely  upon  the  power  of  advancing 
from  natural  values  to  acquired.  The  tendency  of  those 
elements  which  spontaneously  attract  the  mind  is  to 
keep  it  absorbed  in  them,  and  hence  prevent  it  going 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


123 


out  beyond  them  to  connect  them  with  others  and  ren- 
der them  significant.  Acquired  interest,  on  the  other 
hand,  necessarily  leads  the  mind  beyond  what  is  actu- 
ally present  to  other  elements  in  our  experience  which 
give  what  is  present  its  attractive  power.  The  men- 
tal life  of  an  animal  always  remains  upon  a low  plane, 
because  it  is  taken  up  with  the  interesting  features  of 
the  sensations  as  such,  and,  therefore,  is  never  led  be- 
yond them  to  relate  them  to  each  other  in  a meaning 
way. 

Criterion  of  Sensations. — The  criterion  of  the  in- 
tellectual value  of  any  sensation  is  the  readiness  with 
which  it  lends  itself  to  the  acquirement  of  interest. 
Those  which  prominently  assert  their  own  value  as 
mere  sensations  can  never  have  any  great  worth  for 
knowledge.  It  is  the  superior  capacity  of  the  visual 
and  auditory  sensations  in  clustering  interests  about 
themselves  through  associations  with  the  rest  of  our 
experience  that  gives  them  their  supreme  importance 
in  the  cognitive  life,  as  it  is  the  inability  of  thirst  and 
hunger  sensations  to  do  aught  but  thrust  their  own 
sensational  quality  into  consciousness,  which  debars 
them  from  any  high  place.  Whatever  tends  to  ab- 
sorb the  mind  with  purely  sensuous  interest  detracts 
just  so  much  from  the  possibility  of  intelligent  inter- 
est. Refusal  to  let  appetites  and  passions  run  riot  is 
as  much  the  requirement  of  a sound  intellect  as  of  a 
right  conscience. 

2.  Acquired  Value. — The  interest  which  any  pres- 
entation has,  not  merely  on  account  of  the  fact  that  it 
is  a sensation,  but  in  virtue  of  what  it  brings  with  it 
from  out  past  experience,  is  acquired  value.  But  since 
it  is  order  which  connects  our  past  and  our  present  ex- 


124 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


perience,  acquired  value  is  evidently  dependent  upon 
certain  relations  of  order  existing  between  ideas.  To 
say  that  a present  experience  is  connected  with  a past, 
is  to  say  that  it  is  related  to  the  self  in  a definite  way, 
and  this  relation  to  self  is  what  we  mean  by  interest, 
and  since  the  form  it  takes  depends  upon  the  experi- 
ence of  the  self,  it  is  acquired  interest.  The  connec- 
tion of  order  among  our  ideas  thus  necessarily  insures 
acquired  interest  to  every  idea  as  it  arises.  The  new 
experience  will  harmonize  with  some  past  experiences, 
and  be  incongruous  with  others.  There  will  be  on  one 
hand  a feeling  of  fitness,  of  satisfaction,  which  will  lead 
the  mind  to  be  content  with  the  connection,  and  on  the 
other  hand  a feeling  of  unrest  which  will  lead  the  mind 
to  investigate  the  relations  of  the  two.  In  either  case, 
this  feeling  will  serve  to  emphasize  those  elements  which 
are  especially  like,  and  especially  unlike,  previous  expe- 
riences, and  thus  dissociate  them.  The  two  sources  of 
acquired  interest  in  inducing  the  activity  of  dissocia- 
tion are,  consequently,  familiarity  or  likeness-  of  con- 
nection, and  novelty,  or  unlikeness  of  connection. 

(1.)  Interest  of  Familiarity. — These  may  be  analyzed 
into  two  factors  : (i)  Repetition,  or  frequency  ; (ii.)  Re- 
centness. 

(i.)  Repetition.  — Our  interest  clusters  about  those 
elements  in  our  experience  which  are  constantly  re- 
peated. The  multiplication  of  any  occurrence  marks 
it  off  from  those  occurring  rarely,  and  invests  it  with 
attractive  force.  This  principle  is  of  especial  impor- 
tance in  the  early  life  of  children.  Originally  all  ex- 
periences, aside  from  the  emphasis  of  quantity  and 
quality  already  mentioned,  are  on  the  same  level.  The 
child’s  experience  has  no  perspective,  no  recognition 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


125 


of  varying  importance.  The  equal  value  of  all  is  the 
same  as  lack  of  value  in  each.  But  finally,  from  the 
mere  force  of  repetition,  this  background  and  foreground 
of  psychical  life  is  created.  Some  objects — the  sight  of 
the  cradle,  of  the  nurse,  of  utensils  of  food  preparation, 
etc. — are  constantly  recurring.  This  breaks  up  the 
monotony  of  intellectual  life.  Distinctions  arise  ; these 
familiar  objects  are  dissociated  from  their  surround- 
ings, and  stand  forth  prominently.  Distinctness  of  im- 
pression is  thus  seen  to  be  due  to  the  relative  accentu- 
ating by  the  mind,  from  its  own  interest,  of  some  ele- 
ments above  others. 

Further  Importance  of  Repetition. — The  action  of 
the  principle  of  frequency  is  not  confined  to  childhood. 
In  learning  anything  we  voluntarily  set  ourselves  to 
repeating  an  act  so  many  times  that  this  act  gradually 
separates  itself  from  the  background  of  ever-varying 
acts,  and  thus  obtains  a superior  hold  upon  conscious- 
ness. The  familiar  in  all  cases  arouses  the  mind  and 
absorbs  consciousness.  Every  man  has  established, 
through  his  experience,  certain  lines  or  grooves  in 
which  consciousness  tends  to  run  whenever  stimuli  de- 
manding immediate  action  or  thought  are  not  present. 
This  plexus  of  consciousness  determines  largely  one’s 
intellectual  character.  In  a certain  way  each  of  us  has 
the  whole  universe  open  to  himself  for  investigation, 
yet  few  of  us  ever  get  beyond  a certain  limited  range 
of  interests,  because  the  constant  repetition  of  certain 
elements  has  given  these  great  prominence.  Yet  it 
must  not  be  forgotten  that  a certain  amount  of  such 
limitation  to  definite  lines  is  necessary  to  the  creation 
of  any  perspective  in  mental  life. 

Apperceptive  Organs. — Familiarity  not  only  deter- 


126 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


mines  what  the  dominant  conceptions  of  mental  life 
are,  but  it  also  determines  what  the  attitude  of  the  ap- 
perceiving  activity  will  be  towards  new  conceptions. 
This  is  illustrated  by  the  fact  that  a man  in  a foreign 
country  may  pay  no  attention  to  the  words  that  lie 
hears  as  long  as  they  are  uttered  in  a strange  language, 
but  if  he  hears  a few  words  of  his  own  language  he  is 
immediately  all  interest.  Our  past  experiences  decide 
along  what  lines  the  present  activities  of  intelligence 
shall  be  directed.  Occupations  and  special  pursuits  es- 
tablish apperceptive  organs  or  ways  in  which  we  tend 
to  interpret  presentations.  We  see  with  what  we  have 
seen.  The  artist  interprets  his  new  experiences  in 
harmony  with  his  aesthetic  tastes;  in  the  same  object, 
the  scientific  man  finds  illustration  of  some  law ; while 
the  moralist  finds  that  with  which  to  teach  a lesson. 
General  education  consists  in  so  familiarizing  ourselves 
through  repetition  with  certain  objects,  events,  and 
processes  that  we  form  apperceptive  organs,  for  the 
ready  and  quick  apprehension  of  whatever  presents 
points  of  connection  with  these,  while  technical  ed- 
ucation forms  more  particular  organs  of  appercep- 
tion. 

(ii.)  Recentness. — Any  element  which  has  been  re- 
cently in  consciousness  possesses  an  emphasis  which 
dissociates  it  from  more  remote  experiences,  by  virtue 
of  its  superior  vividness  and  distinctness.  Remote- 
ness dulls  the  intensity  of  an  impression,  and  causes  it 
to  sink  back  into  a dull  and  unbroken  level,  from  which 
recentness  of  occurrence  lifts  it.  Recent  impressions 
are  thus  more  likely  to  be  recalled  than  others  ; are 
more  dwelt  upon,  and  serve  to  force  the  mind  from  the 
bondage  of  too  frequent  repetition.  The  principle  of 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


127 


recentness,  while  acting  in  the  same  way  with  that  of 
familiarity  in  laying  special  stress  on  certain  elements, 
yet  partially  counteracts  it,  by  freeing  the  mind  from 
the  tendency  to  dwell  in  certain  oft-repeated  realms  of 
experience. 

(2.)  Novelty. — The  principle  of  novelty , however,  is 
that  which  especially  counteracts  this  tendency.  Fa- 
miliarity may  be  carried  to  a point  where  the  familiar 
element  no  longer  attracts  the  mind.  It  is  matter  of 
common  observation  that  the  continued  ticking  of  a 
clock  ceases  to  come  in  consciousness,  while  change, 
such  as  its  stopping,  is  immediately  noticed.  Those 
who  live  near  the  roar  of  a cataract,  or  in  a mill  amid 
the  clash  of  machinery,  have  similar  experiences.  In 
such  cases  it  is  the  new,  the  unfamiliar,  that  attracts  no- 
tice, and  that  is  especially  emphasized  in  consciousness. 
The  presence  of  a few  foreign  words  in  our  own  lan- 
guage will  arrest  the  mind  almost  as  soon  as  the  occur- 
rence of  known  words  in  a strange  tongue.  A shock 
of  surprise  is  one  of  the  most  effectual  methods  of 
arousing  attention.  The  unexpected  in  the  midst  of 
routine  is  the  accentuated.  The  very  contrast  between 
the  two  rivets  attention,  and  more  effectually  dissoci- 
ates each  from  the  other.  Thus  variety  and  mobility 
of  psychical  life  are  secured. 

Mutual  Relations  of  the  Two  Principles. — The  way 
in  which  the  two  principles  of  familiarity  and  novelty 
limit  each  other  must  be  noticed.  Strictly  speaking, 
they  are  two  phases  of  the  same  activity.  Neither  the 
absolutely  customary,  nor  the  entirely  novel,  attracts 
the  mind ; it  is  the  old  amid  the  new,  the  novel  in  the 
wonted  that  appeal.  Only  to  the  extent  in  which  the 
old  and  permanent  element  is  found  in  the  new  and 


128 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


varying  can  the  mind  deal  with  the  latter.  Points  of 
identity  between  the  present  experience  and  the  past 
are  necessary  for  any  comprehension  of  the  former. 
On  the  other  hand,  without  the  new  element  there 
would  be  no  change,  no  expansion,  no  growth.  The 
novel  is  the  source  of  development.  Without  the  in- 
terest of  novelty  there  would  be  complete  stagnation, 
as  without  the  element  of  familiarity  there  would  be 
complete  meaninglessness.  The  psychical  life  of  an 
infant  begins  when  his  tendency  to  go  from  one  stim- 
ulus to  another  is  checked  by  action  of  the  interest 
of  familiarity  emphasizing  some  one  at  the  expense  of 
others;  but  it  is  developed  only  when  the  interest  of 
novelty  leads  the  child  to  consider  some  old  and  famil- 
iar fact  in  a new  light,  and  thus  expand  it. 

Relations  of  Identity  and  Difference—  The  interest 
of  familiarity  is  thus  what  leads  us  to  identify  the 
present  experience  with  some  past  one;  while  that  of 
novelty  leads  us  to  differentiate  the  past,  by  intro- 
ducing something  new  into  it.  And  these  relations  of 
identity  and  difference  always  go  together.  We  should 
never  think  of  hunting  after  likeness  between  two  peas 
or  two  cents.  It  is  the  likeness  of  the  pea-blossom  to 
the  bean-blossom,  despite  their  differences,  which  is  the 
interesting  fact.  So,  too,  we  do  not  search  for  differ- 
ences between  an  elephant  and  the  conception  of  right- 
eousness. It  is  the  difference  between  a whale  and  a 
porpoise,  in  spite  of  their  apparent  likeness,  that  at- 
tracts the  mind.  In  short,  the  activity  of  intelligence 
consists  in  identifying  the  apparently  unlike,  and  in 
discriminating  the  apparently  like;  and  it  is  through 
the  relation  of  identity  that  the  present  experience  is 
comprehended,  and  through  the  element  of  differ- 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


129 


ence  that  past  experience  grows  into  richer  forms. 
Each  relation  is,  therefore,  indispensable  to  intelli- 
gence. 

Illustration. — Both  relations  are  involved  in  any  act 
of  knowledge,  but  we  may  illustrate  by  the  appercep- 
tion of  an  unknown  species  of  plant  by  a botanist. 
The  botanist  will  apprehend  it  only  so  far  as  he  is  at- 
tracted to  it  by  certain  familiar  elements  in  it,  which 
stand  out  above  others ; and  through  the  relations  of 
identity  involved  in  this  familiarity  he  will  recognize 
it,  and  refer  it  to  its  proper  sub-kingdom,  class,  order, 
etc.  On  the  other  hand,  the  presence  of  novel  features 
in  this  plant  will  necessitate  a certain  revision  of  old 
knowledge.  He  may  be  compelled  to  acknowledge  a 
new  genus  of  plants  in  his  classification,  or  he  may  be 
obliged  to  make  over  his  old  classification,  so  that  some 
order  may  include  the  properties  of  the  new  member. 
In  either  case  the  relation  of  difference  serves  to  devel- 
op the  old  knowledge. 

III.  Function  of  Dissociation  in  Psychical  Life. — 
We  have  already  anticipated  this  in  what  has  just  been 
said.  But,  looked  at  from  a somewhat  different  stand- 
point, it  may  be  said  that  the  emphasizing  of  some  ele- 
ments and  their  consequent  prominence  over  others 
serves  two  purposes,  one  negative,  the  other  positive. 
The  negative  function  consists  in  breaking  up  the 
mechanism  which  the  activity  of  association,  if  left  to 
itself,  would  result  in,  and  the  disintegration  of  those 
bonds  which  would  tie  the  mind  down  to  objective 
data,  without  allowing  it  free  play  according  to  its  own 
interests.  The  perfection  of  the  principle  of  associa- 
tion would  be  reached  when  the  mind  was  governed 
by  purely  mechanical  principles,  and  its  activity  con- 
6* 


130 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


trolled  by  external  considerations.  The  negative  func- 
tion of  dissociation  is  to  break  up  this  control. 

Positive  Function. — This  consists,  accordingly,  in 
setting  the  mind  or  self  free  from  its  subjection  to 
purely  objective  influences,  and  causing  it  to  act  for 
ends  of  its  own , that  is ,for  ideal  or  internal  ends.  In 
short,  dissociation  paves  the  way  for  attention , which 
is  simply  this  mental  activity  for  self-regulated  ends. 
The  essential  influence  in  freeing  the  mind  is  the  fact 
of  interest.  The  existence  of  interest  as  a factor  in 
psychical  life  means  that  not  all  data  are  on  the  same 
level  to  the  mind,  but  that  they  have  more  or  less  in- 
timate connection  with  the  self,  expressed  by  some 
pleasurable  or  disagreeable  quality  in  them.  It  is  this 
emotional,  subjective  motive  to  which  the  existence 
of  perspective  or  difference  in  value  in  psychical  life 
is  due.  Its  result  is  to  bring  into  consciousness  the 
ends  towards  which  attention,  as  the  internally  initi- 
ated activity  of  mind,  may  direct  itself.  These  ends 
are  of  two  kinds,  general  and  special. 

(1.)  General. — This  consists  in  the  fact  that  self,  as 
a whole,  is  set  free  to  act  for  its  own  ends.  In  associ- 
ation the  activities  of  the  self  are  governed  by  external 
considerations;  in  attention,  they  are  directed  towards 
the  ends  of  the  self ; dissociation  is  the  intermediate 
process  which  renders  the  self  independent  of  the  ex- 
ternal influences,  so  that  it  may  act  for  its  own  ends. 
The  infant,  for  example,  is  originally  at  the  mercy  of 
the  external  world  in  his  cognitive  life.  One  fact  is  of 
as  much  value  for  it  as  another.  Quantity  and  quality 
of  sensations  are  the  first  differentiating  factors.  But 
soon  the  child  learns  that  not  the  loudest  sound  is  of 
most  importance  for  it.  The  voice  of  the  mother  or 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


131 


nur»e  is  the  most  interesting  to  it,  for  this  has  the 
most  connection  with  its  pleasures  and  pains,  with  the 
satisfaction  of  hunger,  and  the  rest  after  fatigue,  etc. 
Here  the  child  begins  to  discriminate  with  reference  to 
self  ; reference  to  self  becomes  the  motive  of  discrimi- 
nating activity.  From  this  time  on,  action  for  self  is 
the  essential  feature  even  of  its  intellectual  life. 

(2.)  Special. — But  dissociation  does  more  than  free 
the  self  so  that  it  may  act  with  reference  to  itself.  It 
also  sets  free  or  analyzes  out  the  various  special  ends 
which  are  included  in  the  general  welfare  of  the  self. 
The  emphasis  which  the  fact  of  interest  puts  upon  cer- 
tain elements  in  cognition  makes  them  ends  for  know- 
ing, as  other  elements  are  not.  These  ends  will  be  al- 
most infinite  in  number,  varying  with  the  stage  of  de- 
velopment of  the  person,  with  his  prevailing  pursuits 
and  occupations,  etc. ; but,  as  to  their  form,  they  may 
be  reduced  to  two  — the  relations  of  difference  and 
of  identity ; and  so  it  may  be  said  that  the  special 
ends  of  the  mind  in  knowing  are  to  discover  these  re- 
lations or  to  identify  and  to  discriminate.  This  activ- 
ityT,  to  which  we  are  now  introduced,  and  which  unites 
and  separates  with  conscious  reference  to  the  value 
which  such  uniting  and  separating  have  for  knowledge, 
is  attention.  In  association  the  sequence  of  our  ideas 
is  unconsciously  governed  by  these  relations  ; in  disso- 
ciation these  relations  are  set  free  from  all  their  ac- 
companying contingent  associations ; in  attention  the 
train  of  ideas  is  directed  with  conscious  reference  to 
them. 


132 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


§ 5.  Attention. 

Consciousness  and  Attention.- — In  a broad  sense 
every  act  of  knowledge  may  be  regarded  as  due  to  at- 
tention, for  every  consciousness  involves  the  activity 
of  the  mind.  Nothing  can  be  in  consciousness  which 
consciousness  does  not  put  there.  Consciousness  is  an 
active  process.  The  mind,  as  originally  defined  (page 
21),  presupposes  some  relation  between  the  universal 
content  and  the  individual.  Attention,  in  a general 
sense,  is  precisely  this  connection  which  exists  in  every 
act  of  knowledge,  between  that  which  knows  and  that 
which  is  known.  It  is  the  active  connection  of  the 
individual  and  the  universal.  As  there  is  no  con- 
sciousness without  this  relation,  consciousness  and  at- 
tention, as  so  defined,  are  identical.  But  this  active 
connection  may  be  called  forth  either  from  without  or 
from  within,  and  it  is  found  better  to  limit  the  term 
attention  so  that  it  shall  not  apply  to  every  activity  of 
the  mind,  but  only  to  that  which  starts  from  within. 

Attention  and  Association. — Attention  might,  ac- 
cordingly, be  defined  as  active  association,  while  asso- 
ciation could  be  regarded  as  passive  attention.  In  the 
latter  the  motives  to  activity  are  external,  due  to  the 
sensations,  or  the  way  in  which  they  present  them- 
selves ; in  the  former  the  motives  are  internal,  due  to 
some  interest  which  the  mind  takes  in  reaching  an  end 
of  its  own.  In  dissociation,  also,  the  activity  is  still  in 
some  sense  mechanical,  for  the  mind  does  not  con- 
sciously recognize  that  itself  and  its  interests  are  the 
basis  of  the  process.  Dissociation  results,  however,  in 
making  the  self  stand  clearly  forth  separated  from  the 
multiplicity  of  its  associations,  and  holds  before  it  the 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


133 


distinct  ends  in  which  it  is  interested ; and  attention 
begins  just  here,  where  dissociation  leaves  off.  Hence 
association,  dissociation,  and  attention  are  only  stages  in 
the  same  active  process. 

Definition  of  Attention. — Attention  may  be  defined 
as  follows : Attention  is  that  activity  of  the  self  which 
connects  all  elements  'presented  to  it  into  one  whole , 
with  reference  to  their  ideal  significance  ; that  is,  with 
reference  to  the  relation  which  they  hear  to  some  intel- 
lectual end.  The  essential  characteristic  of  attention 
is,  therefore,  activity  directed  towards  some  end.  Ul- 
timately this  end  is  the  self.  The  various  activities 
of  attention  are  based  in  the  interests  of  the  self,  and 
directed  towards  ends  which  will  satisfy  the  self,  by 
fulfilling  these  interests.  Its  process  is  such  a direc- 
tion of  its  own  contents  that  these  ends  will  be  reached. 
Starting-point,  goal,  and  way  are  all  found  in  the  self, 
therefore.  Attention  is  thus  a process  of  self-develop- 
ment. In  studying  attention  we  are  studying  the  ac- 
tivities by  which  the  mind  develops  or  realizes  itself. 
Various  aspects  in  this  process  may  be  noted,  and  hence 
we  may  distinguish  attention  as  an  activity — I.  Select- 
ing; II.  Adjusting;  III.  Relating. 

I.  Attention  as  a Selecting  Activity. — The  mind  ac- 
tively attends  to  and  thus  directs  the  sequence  of  ideas, 
instead  of  surrendering  itself  passively  to  them.  It 
manipulates  its  presentations ; some  it  selects,  while  it 
neglects  others.  Thus  considered,  it  is  merely  a higher 
form  of  dissociation,  with  its  relative  emphasis  and 
slurring  of  elements.  The  difference  is  that  in  disso- 
ciation the  stress  is  laid  because  of  the  immediate  in- 
terest which  the  element  possesses,  while  in  attention 
it  is  due  to  the  active  interest  which  the  mind  takes. 


134 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


One  is  interest  of  the  presentation  for  the  mind ; the 
other  is  interest  of  the  mind  in  the  presentation. 

Distinction  from  Dissociation. — In  dissociation  the 
selection  takes  place  with  reference  to  past  experiences. 
Novelty  and  familiarity  determine  the  accent.  In 
attention  the  selection  occurs  with  reference  to  the 
future.  The  interests  previously  studied  would  allow 
the  mind  to  see  things  only  in  the  light  of  the  past ; 
the  interests  which  determine  the  direction  of  attention 
have  reference  to  coming  experiences,  which  the  mind 
is  endeavoring  to  gain.  Attention  has  always  an  end 
in  view,  with  express  consideration  of  which  it  selects. 
The  mind  at-tends;  it  is  stretched  out  towards  some- 
thing. Attention  has  been  called  “asking  questions  of 
the  future,”  and  it  selects  only  such  material  as  seems 
fitted  to  furnish  the  answer. 

Nature  of  Attention. — The  activity  of  attention  has 
been  compared  to  that  of  the  eye.  When  we  wish  to 
see  anything  distinctly  wre  turn  the  eyes  upon  it,  so  as 
to  bring  its  image  directly  upon  the  yellow  spot,  the 
point  of  most  acute  vision,  while  all  peripheral  images 
become  blurred.  So  in  attending,  we  fixate  the  mental 
content  in  the  centre  of  the  mind’s  activity,  and  allow 
all  else  to  become  dim  and  indistinct.  In  attention 
we  focus  the  mind,  as  the  lens  takes  all  the  light  com- 
ing to  it,  and  instead  of  allowing  it  to  distribute  itself 
evenly  concentrates  it  in  a point  of  great  light  and 
heat.  So  the  mind,  instead  of  diffusing  consciousness 
over  all  the  elements  presented  to  it,  brings  it  all  to 
bear  upon  some  one  selected  point,  which  stands  out 
with  unusual  brilliancy  and  distinctness. 

Kinds  of  Selection. — The  point  to  be  borne  in  mind 
is  that  attention  always  selects  with  reference  to  some 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


135 


end  which  the  mind  has  in  view,  some  difficulty  to 
be  cleared  up,  some  problem  to  be  solved,  some  idea 
to  be  gained,  or  plan  to  be  formed.  There  will  be  as 
many  kinds  of  selection,  therefore,  as  there  are  ends 
before  the  mind.  The  sensuous  elements  presented  to 
a farmer,  a botanist,  and  an  artist,  in  a flower,  are  the 
same,  but  the  first  will  direct  his  mind  only  to  those 
elements  which  are  serviceable  to  him,  which  will  en- 
able him  to  decide  whether  the  plant  is  a weed  or  an 
article  of  food.  The  botanist  will  select  whatever  en- 
ables him  properly  to  classify  the  plant,  while  both 
xiseful  and  scientific  considerations  will  be  neglected 
by  the  artist,  who  will  select  aesthetic  factors.  In 
a certain  sense  no  two  of  the  three  apperccive  the 
same  flower.  One  sees,  that  is  selects,  one  thing,  while 
this  is  invisible  to  another;  that  is,  is  neglected  by 
him. 

Permanent  Ends  of  Selection. — Besides  these  varia- 
ble interests,  which  lead  to  differing  kinds  of  selection, 
there  are,  however,  certain  permanent  ends,  which  are 
the  same  to  all  minds.  Such  a permanent  and  univer- 
sal element  is  the  self.  If  there  is  anything  necessarily 
involved  in  every  activity  of  self  this  will  be  an  end 
to  all  individuals,  and  to  the  same  individual  at  all 
times.  Now,  one  factor  which  is  necessary  to  the  very 
being  of  the  mind  is  knowledge.  The  mind  is  not, 
except  as  it  knows.  Interest  in  knowledge  must,  there- 
fore, be  universal  in  all  minds,  and  must,  in  some  way, 
control  every  action  of  the  same  mind;  that  is,  be  a 
permanent  end.  A brief  study  of  this  universal  inter- 
est in  knowledge  will  serve  to  show  both  the  impor- 
tance of  the  selecting  activity  of  intelligence  and  the 
way  in  which  it  works. 


13G 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Law  of  Selection. — The  mind  neglects  the  sensuous 
'presentation  of  everything  which  cannot  he  regarded  as 
a sign  of  something , and  selects  only  those  elements 
which  can  he  interpreted  as  pointing  to  something  be- 
yond themselves.  Otherwise  stated,  sensations,  as  such, 
never  enter  into  our  knowledge.  Knowledge  always 
consists  of  interpreted  sensations  : elements  which  have 
gained  meaning  by  their  connections  with  other  ele- 
ments, of  which  they  serve  as  signs.  Experience, 
accordingly,  or  the  world  of  known  objects,  is  not  a col- 
orless copy  of  what  actually  exists,  stereotyped  or  im- 
pressed upon  us,  but  is  an  experience  produced  by  the 
mind  acting  according  to  the  interests  of  self  in  inter- 
preting sensuous  data. 

Illustration  by  Muscular  Sensations. — These,  as  al- 
ready seen,  are  of  the  greatest  importance  in  our  psy- 
chical life,  yet  ordinarily  we  are  not  conscious  of  their 
existence.  We  neglect  them  because  of  their  place  in 
the  intellectual  life.  They  are  signs  to  us  of  various 
qualities  in  objects,  and  when  they  are  thus  objectively 
interpreted  they  entirely  lose  their  sensuous  existence. 
They  are  symbols  of  objective  things  and  properties; 
they  are  no  longer  subjective  states.  We  are  not  con- 
scious, for  example,  of  the  muscular  sensations  involved 
in  the  sweep  of  the  arm  through  the  air,  because  they 
are  immediately  interpreted  as  so  much  space  passed, 
through.  We  neglect  their  sensuous  existence,  and 
select  their  ideal  significance.  Meaning  always  takes 
us  beyond  the  bare  presentation,  to  its  connections  and 
relations  to  the  rest  of  experience.  We  select  not  what 
a thing  is,  but  what  it  points  to. 

Illustration  by  “ Subjective  Sensations .” — We  have 
already  seen  that  sensations  may  arise  when  there  is  no 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


137 


extra-organic  stimulus  present,  by  affection  of  the 
nerve  organ,  or  nerve  centre  itself.  Sensations  thus 
produced  are  termed  “ subjective,”  although,  strictly 
speaking,  all  sensations  are  subjective.  Ordinarily 
such  sensations  are  not  observed,  because  they  are  not 
regarded  as  signs  of  objects.  Such  are  the  so-called 
entoptic  phenomena,  the  constant  play  of  internally- 
initiated  colors,  the  existence  of  after-images,  such  as 
continue  after  looking  at  a bright  object  and  with- 
drawing the  head,  etc.  Just  as  soon,  however,  as  these 
sensations  are  attended  to  they  are  objectified  and  pro- 
jected into  space.  Our  interest  in  significance  is  so 
great  that  we  perforce  regard  sensations  as  signs  of 
objects,  whether  the  objects  be  actually  present  or  not. 
This  constitutes  the  psychological  basis  of  hallucina- 
tions, dreams,  etc. 

Farther  Illustrations. — We  do  not  ordinarily  per- 
ceive over-tones.  We  interpret  them  as  signs  of  the 
musical  instrument — piano,  violin,  human  voice,  etc. — 
whence  they  proceed,  and  thus  entirely  neglect  their 
sensuous  existence.  When  we  do  pay  attention  to 
them  it  is  because  of  their  intellectual  value  ; it  is  be- 
cause they  will  add  to  our  knowledge  of  the  theory  of 
tones.  In  vision,  also,  we  habitually  neglect  the  fact 
of  double  vision.  We  have  two  visual  sensations  of  all 
objects,  owing  to  the  doubleness  of  the  organ,  yet  we 
perceive  but  one  object.  This  is  because  the  existence 
of  the  sensations,  whether  one,  two,  or  fifty,  is  of  no 
benefit  to  us,  except  as  signs  of  objects.  We  neglect 
the  sensation,  therefore,  for  what  it  points  to — the  sin- 
gle object.  Such  illustrations  might  be  increased,  but 
enough  have  been  given  to  exemplify  the  principle. 

Knowledge  as  Idealization. — This  study  of  the  ne- 


138 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


cessity  of  the  selecting  activity  of  intelligence  for 
knowledge  leads  us  to  recognize  that  all  knowledge  is 
a process  of  idealization.  Sensations,  per  se,  never  en- 
ter into  knowledge.  Knowledge  is  constituted  by  in- 
terpretation of  sensations,  that  is,  by  their  idealization. 
The  sensations  furnish  the  data,  but  these  data  must 
be  neglected,  selected,  and  manipulated  by  the  self  be- 
fore they  become  knowledge.  The  process  is  properly 
called  one  of  idealization  because  it  goes  beyond  the 
sensuous  existence,  which  is  actually  present,  and  gives 
this  present  datum  meaning  by  connecting  it  with  the 
self,  and  thus  putting  into  it  significance,  which  as  bare 
existence  it  does  not  have.  Meaning,  in  short,  is  con- 
nection, is  relation,  is  going  beyond  the  mere  presenta- 
tion to  something  beyond.  This  element  must  be  sup- 
plied by  the  self  or  mind,  and  hence  is  ideal.  Just 
the  process  by  which  this  ideal  element  is  supplied  we 
have  yet  to  study. 

II.  Attention  as  Adjusting  Activity. — It  has  already 
been  pointed  out  that  attention  is  always  directed  tow- 
ards the  future,  since  it  is  concerned  with  reaching 
some  end,  or  realizing  some  interest  of  the  self.  We 
have  just  studied  the  selection  of  the  proper  material 
for  attaining  the  end ; we  have  now  to  study  the  way 
in  which  this  selected  material  is  utilized,  or  brought 
to  bear  so  as  to  reach  the  desired  end.  In  short,  we 
have  seen  that  material  is  always  selected  with  refer- 
ence to  its  ideal  or  intellectual  significance.  We  have 
now  to  see  how  it  gets  this  ideal  meaning.  It  is  by 
the  process  of  adjustment,  or  that  activity  of  intelli- 
gence whereby  the  yjhole  organized  self  is  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  presented  and  selected  elements,  so  as  to 
read  itself  into  them  and  give  them  meaning. 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


139 


Adjustment  Requires  Ability  to  Anticipate. — Ad  j ust- 
ment  is,  according!}7,  the  active  application  of  the  mind 
with  all  its  contents  upon  presentations,  so  as  to  shape 
these  presentations  towards  the  intellectual  end  sought. 
Now  this  process  of  adjustment  will  be  able  to  occur 
only  in  the  degree  in  which  the  mind  is  conscious  of 
the  end,  and  of  the  steps  necessary  to  reach  it.  If  the 
idea  of  the  end  is  definite  the  self  will  know  just  how 
to  bring  itself  to  bear;  how  to  direct  itself.  If  it  is 
vague  the  process  must  largely  be  a tentative  one,  the 
mind  feeling  around,  as  it  were,  adopting  now  this  ex- 
pedient and  now  that.  The  process  of  adjustment,  in 
short,  will  be  performed  imperfectly  and  with  diffi- 
culty. If,  however,  there  is  a clear  anticipation  of  the 
end,  that  is,  of  the  approaching  psychical  experience, 
the  mind  will  not  only  be  ready  for  it,  in  a general 
way,  but  will  be  able  to  employ  just  those  activities 
and  apperceptive  organs  which  are  most  fitted  to  ren- 
der the  act  of  apprehension  speedy  and  complete.  The 
perfection  of  an  intellectual  act  depends,  therefore, 
upon  the  definiteness  and  completeness  with  which  an 
act  of  adjustment  can  be  performed,  and  this  depends 
upon  the  extent  that  the  mind  can  anticipate  what  is 
coming. 

Illustration. — The  nature  of  the  mental  life  may  be 
illustrated  as  follows  : Suppose  an  individual  in  a dark 
room,  with  which  he  is  wholly  unacquainted,  and  which 
is  lighted  up  at  brief  intervals  by  an  electric  spark ; at 
the  first  spark  the  individual  will  perceive  next  to 
nothing,  and  that  little  indistinctly.  At  the  next 
spark  he  has,  however,  this  vague  basis  of  expectation 
upon  which  to  work,  and  the  result  is  that  he  apper- 
ceives  somewhat  more.  This  apperception  now  eu- 


HO 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ables  him  to  form  a more  perfect  anticipation  of  what 
is  coming,  and  thus  enables  him  to  adjust  his  mind 
more  perfectly.  This  process  of  apperception  through 
anticipation,  and  reaction  of  the  apperceived  content 
upon  the  completeness  of  the  anticipation,  continues, 
until,  during  some  flash,  he  has  a pretty  definite  and 
perfect  idea  of  the  scene  before  him,  although  the 
spark  lasts  no  longer  than  the  first,  and  there  is  no 
more  material  sensuously  present.  The  sole  difference 
is  in  the  adjusting  power  of  the  mind,  due  to  its  ability 
to  anticipate. 

Necessity  of  Past  Experience. — This  illustration 
brings  out  the  additional  point  that  ability  to  perform 
adjustment  depends  upon  past  experiences.  Our  ca- 
pacity of  anticipation  will  be  decided  by  what  we  have 
got  out  of  previous  experiences.  These,  the  sparks  of 
li<xh t of  the  illustration,  have  formed  some  idea  of  the 
world,  the  dark  room  in  which  the  mind  is  placed, 
and  through  these  the  new  experiences  are  appre- 
hended. In  all  knowing  wTe  are  thus  forming  organs 
for  future  knowing;  we  are  deciding  our  future  ad- 
justments. In  the  presence  of  the  world  to  be  known, 
the  man  differs  from  the  child;  not  only  in  sensations, 
but  in  the  fact  that  the  latter  has  not  had  enough  ex- 
perience in  the  past  to  bring  to  bear  upon  the  interpre- 
tation of  these  presented  sensations,  while  the  man 
comes  to  them  with  definite  organs  of  adjustment  due 
to  his  past  life. 

Experimental  Evidence. — The  truth  that  ready  and 
distinct  apperception  depends  upon  the  degree  to 
which  the  mind  can  prepare  itself  for  the  coming  ex- 
perience, and  adjust  itself  to  it,  is  shown  by  certain 
experiments.  By  methods  not  necessary  to  detail  here 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


141 


it  has  been  found  that  the  average  time  for  the  apper- 
ception of  a simple  sense  stimulus  is  from  4 to  i of  a 
second.  That  is  to  say,  it  takes  that  length  of  time 
for  an  individual  to  apprehend  a flash  of  light,  for  ex- 
ample; to  interpret  the  stimulus,  discriminate  it  from 
others,  and  recognize  it  as  light.  But  if  a signal  is 
given  beforehand,  so  that  the  mind  can  prepare  itself, 
the  time  is  reduced  as  low  as  ^ of  a second.  If  the 
stimuli  follow  each  other  at  perfectly  regular  intervals, 
so  that  the  mind  can  perform  a constant  series  of  simi- 
lar adjustments,  the  time  may  be  reduced  to  nothing. 
The  mind,  because  of  its  ability  to  accurately  antici- 
pate what  is  coming,  is  perfectly  adjusted,  and  requires 
no  time. 

Evidence  Continued. — On  the  other  hand,  it  is  found 
that  everything  that  tends  to  make  the  process  of  ad- 
justment less  easy  or  complete  retards  apperception. 
If  the  mind  is  unaware  of  the  time  or  of  the  intensity 
of  the  awaited  stimulus  the  time  is  greatly  lengthened. 
If  the  mind  is  expecting  a loud  sound,  and  a soft  one 
occurs,  the  time  is  almost  doubled.  If  in  a series, 
which  have  been  occurring  at  regular  intervals,  one  is 
put  in  at  a shorter  interval,  or  the  time  is  delayed, 
either  the  time  is  greatly  increased  or  the  apperception 
does  not  occur  at  all.  If  the  mind  cannot  anticipate 
the  quality  of  the  stimulus,  that  is,  tell  whether  it  is 
to  be  light  or  sound,  the  time  is  also  lengthened.  If 
various  stimuli  occur  together  the  time  of  the  apper- 
ception of  any  one  is  retarded,  because  the  mind  has  to 
choose  to  which  it  shall  adjust  itself.  Hence  we  can 
lay  down  the  rule  that  just  in  the  degree  in  which  the 
mind  has  a definite  idea  of  the  end  towards  which 
attention  is  directed,  and  is  thereby  enabled  to  adjust 


142 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


itself  to  this  end,  is  apperception  speedy,  distinct,  and 
complete. 

The  Process  of  Idealization. — We  saw  under  the 
head  of  “selection”  that  idealization  of  sensations 
is  necessary  for  knowledge.  We  now  see  how  this 
idealization  comes  about.  We  apperceive  the  sensa- 
tion, or  interpret  it,  by  adjusting  the  mind  to  it;  and 
this  adjustment  is  bringing  past  experiences  to  bear 
upon  the  present.  We  know  with  what  we  have 
known.  In  adjustment  the  mind  reads  out  of  itself 
and  into  the  sensation  ideal  elements  which  transform 
the  sensation  and  make  it  a part  of  knowledge.  For- 
mer acquirements  serve  as  the  means  of  giving  signifi- 
cance to  the  new.  The  same  object  may  awaken  only  a 
look  of  stolid  surprise  in  the  savage,  or  the  comprehen- 
sion of  a new  law  of  the  action  of  bodies.  The  hog 
reads  into  the  apple  simply  that  it  is  good  to  eat ; Sir 
Isaac  Newton  that  it  exemplifies  the  law  of  all  falling 
bodies.  Each  puts  self  into  the  same  sensation,  and  the 
result  is  a world-wide  difference.  All  knowledge  consists 
in  thus  putting  self  into  presented  data  of  sensation. 

Meaning  is  Reference  to  Self — The  sensation  gets 
significance,  accordingly,  just  in  the  degree  in  which  the 
mind  puts  itself  into  it.  As  it  puts  itself  into  the  sen- 
sation it  makes  it  a sign  of  its  past  experiences.  Ad- 
justment is  the  process  by  which  the  self  so  connects 
itself  with  the  presented  datum  that  this  becomes  a 
sign,  or  symbolic — points  to  something  beyond  its  own 
new  existence,  and  hence  has  meaning.  The  fact 
known  is  not  a bare  fact,  that  is,  an  existence  implying 
no  constructive  activity  of  intelligence,  but  is  idealized 
fact,  existence  upon  which  the  constructive  intelligence 
has  been  at  work.  That  which  is  not  thus  idealized 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


143 


by  the  mind  has  no  existence  for  intelligence.  All 
knowledge  is  thus,  in  a certain  sense,  self-knowledge. 
Knowing  is  not  the  process  by  which  ready-made  ob- 
jects impress  themselves  upon  the  mind,  but  is  the 
process  by  which  self  renders  sensations  significant  by 
reading  itself  into  them. 

III.  Attention  as  Relating  Activity. — We  have  seen 
that  in  order  to  reach  the  end  which  the  mind  in  at- 
tention always  has  before  it,  it  is  necessary  to  neglect 
much  of  the  sensuous  data  and  select  certain  portions 
of  it  with  reference  to  this  end  ; and,  also,  that  this 
selected  material  gets  significance  by  the  adjusting  ac- 
tivity of  intelligence,  which  brings  past  experiences  to 
bear  upon  it.  Just  what  this  adjusting  consists  in,  or 
how  past  experiences  are  brought  to  bear  upon  the  in- 
terpretation of  present  data,  we  have  not  studied.  This 
occurs  through  the  process  of  relating.  This  may  be 
termed  the  act  of  comparison. 

Tioo  Kinds  of  Relations. — The  relations  which  con- 
nect mental  contents  are  those  of  identity  and  of  differ- 
ence. Comparison  is  an  act  of  mind  which  considers 
various  cognitions  in  their  relations  to  each  other,  so  as 
to  discover  in  what  points  they  are  alike,  and  hence 
may  be  unified,  and  in  what  they  are  unlike,  and  hence 
must  be  distinguished.  The  function  of  attention  as  a 
relating  activity  is  therefore  to  introduce  unity  and 
distinctness  into  psychical  life.  In  attention,  mental 
contents  are  held  before  the  mind  simultaneously,  and 
yet  are  held  apart,  so  that  they  do  not  fuse.  In  asso- 
ciation, if  two  elements  are  presented  simultaneously, 
they  are  fused  ; or  if  elements  are  not  fused,  they  can 
come  before  the  mind  only  successively.  But  atten- 
tion can  hold  contents  together  and  apart  at  the  same 


144 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


time.  It  necessarily  unifies  and  discriminates  in  one 
and  the  same  act.  There  are  not  two  acts,  therefore, 
but  two  phases  of  the  same  act  of  attention ; and  as  such 
they  must  be  studied. 

1.  Identity , or  Unification. — The  unity  which  is  the 
result  of  attention  must  be  distinguished  from  the 
unity  which  is  the  result  of  fusion.  In  the  latter  the 
various  associated  elements  lose  their  distinct  existence, 
and  are  absorbed  in  the  result.  The  unifying  activity 
of  attention  is  always  accompanied  by  the  discriminat- 
ing, and  hence  this  actual  fusion  does  not  occur.  The 
unity  is  an  ideal  one;  that  is,  it  is  of  a relation  which 
connects  them,  not  of  an  actual  thing.  It  is  identity  of 
meaning , not  of  existence.  Thus  when  the  botanist 
compares  a rose  with  an  apple-blossom,  and  unifies  the 
two  perceptions  in  a common  class,  he  does  not  cease  to 
have  two  things  before  him.  The  unification  is  an  in- 
tellectual one,  consisting  in  the  recognition  of  an  ideal 
element  of  meaning  in  both.  They  both  signify  or 
point  to  the  same  law  or  relation.  The  process  of  uni- 
fying always  consists  in  the  discovery  of  an  identity  of 
meaning  in  objects  apparently  unlike. 

Importance  in  Knowledge. — Without  this  discovery 
of  identity  of  meaning  between  presentations,  which, 
as  existences,  are  separate  from  each  other,  there  could 
be  no  knowledge.  Knowledge  always  consists  in  going 
out  beyond  the  present  sensation,  and  connecting  it  with 
others  by  finding  that  both  mean  the  same  ; that  is,  that 
both  point  to  the  same  psychical  experience.  Without 
this  ideal  identification  of  one  sensation  with  anoth- 
er, knowledge  would  be  impossible,  and  psychical  life 
would  consist  of  a series  of  transitory  and  shifting 
sensations,  no  one  of  which  would  be  recognized  nor 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


145 


referred  to  an  object.  Growth  in  knowledge  consists 
in  discovering  more  and  more  fundamental  unities, 
and  thus  in  reducing  to  ideal  unity  facts,  events,  and 
relations  before  separate.  Knowledge  can  reach  its 
goal  only  in  a perfectly  harmonious  system  of  all 
truths.  Its  aim  is  everywhere  to  see  every  fact  as  de- 
pendent upon  every  other  fact,  or  all  as  members  of 
one  organic  unity. 

Growth  of  Attention. — It  is  the  constant  tendency 
towards  unification  of  ideas  which  allows  the  mind  to 
take  in  larger  and  larger  wholes  in  the  same  act,  and 
thus  economize  mental  power.  The  unifying  of  at- 
tention is  simply  the  unity  of  end  or  likeness  of 
meaning  found  amid  various  facts,  and  it  requires  no 
more  energy  of  mind  to  grasp  a thousand  facts  in  their 
unity  than  it  does  ten.  Some  have  announced  as  a 
principle  of  attention,  Pluribus  intentus,  minor  est  ad 
singula  sens  us holding  that  the  wider  the  grasp  of  at- 
tention, the  less  perfect  will  it  be  in  its  details.  But 
this  overlooks  the  fact  that  the  movement  of  attention 
is  always  towards  the  discovery  of  identity,  and  the 
grasping  of  all  objects  possessing  this  identity  of  sig- 
nificance  in  one  act  of  thought.  The  effect  of  atten- 
tion  is  necessarily  as  much  to  render  it  possible  for 
the  mind  to  apprehend  more  and  more  at  the  same 
time,  as  it  is  to  make  details  more  definite  and  precise. 

2.  Difference  or  Discrimination. — But  identification 
is  only  one  side  of  the  process  of  comparison.  We 
never  compare  things  exactly  alike ; we  compare  only 
where  there  is  some  element  of  difference.  The  ap- 
perception of  distinction  must  go  hand  in  hand  with 
that  of  unity.  We  can  discover  identity  of  meaning 
amid  diversity  of  fact  only  as  we  can  exclude  all  that 
7 


146 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


is  unlike.  Mental  contents  are  held  apart  when  they 
are  related  to  each  other;  they  are  not  indistinguisha- 
bly  fused  into  one.  This  is  because  of  the  relations  of 
difference.  Without  this  differentiating  act  of  atten- 
tion mental  life  would  be  a chaos.  There  would  be 
no  meaning  in  it,  because  there  would  be  no  distinction 
of  one  object  or  event  from  another.  We  are  able  to 
refer  one  object  to  another,  to  connect  one  element  of 
experience  with  another,  because  we  can  distinguish 
them  from  each  other. 

Distinction  and  Consciousness. — What  we  do  not 
distinguish  or  differentiate  has  no  existence  in  con- 
sciousness. It  remains  absorbed  in  some  other  ele- 
ment, or  is  neglected.  The  act  of  bringing  anything 
into  consciousness  consists  in  separating  it  out  from 
other  elements  through  this  distinguishing  activity  of 
attention.  The  soldier  excited  in  battle  does  not  know 
of  his  wound.  The  orator  afflicted  with  a disease  ordi- 
narily most  painful,  is  unconscious  of  suffering  during 
the  delivery  of  his  speech.  The  same  fact  is  illus- 
trated without  leaving  the  most  usual  consciousness. 
There  are  constantly  flowing  in  upon  us  stimuli  from 
all  our  organs — ear,  eye,  and  skin  especially — yet  we  are 
ordinarily  conscious  of  but  few  of  these.  The  pressure 
of  clothing,  of  our  position,  of  most  objects  about  us, 
soundsin  which  we  are  notinterested — these  do  notcome 
into  consciousness  at  all,  for  they  are  not  discriminated, 
and  thus  lifted  into  relief.  On  the  other  hand,  paying 
constant  attention  to  any  element  of  experience  gives 
that  element  great  distinctness.  This  is  illustrated  in 
persons  of  special  attainments,  as  well  as  in  all  mono- 
maniacs, hypochondriacs,  etc. 

Distinctness  and  Intensity.  — The  distinctness  of 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


147 


mental  content  must  be  separated  from  its  intensity. 
Intensity  is  the  amount  of  consciousness  which  it  occu- 
pies, or  th q force  with  which  it  thrusts  itself  into  con- 
sciousness. Distinctness  is  always  relative,  and  implies 
the  points  of  difference  which  separate  two  compared 
contents  from  each  other,  or  one  part  of  a content 
from  another.  The  perception  of  the  sun  is  exceed- 
ingly intense,  hut  very  indistinct.  So  the  flavor  of  a 
fruit  may  be  exceedingly  strong,  but  if  it  has  never 
been  experienced  before  it  will  not  he  distinct,  for  its 
relations  to  other  flavors  will  not  be  recognized.  Dis- 
tinctness, in  short,  always  implies  the  distinguishing 
activity  of  intelligence.  When  I say  that  my  memory 
of  a certain  event  is  indistinct,  what  I mean  is  not  nec- 
essarily that  my  image  of  it  is  very  dim,  hut  that  I 
cannot  discriminate  it  clearly  from  other  events  occur- 
ring at  about  the  same  time,  or  from  similar  events  oc- 
curring at  different  times.  It  is  not  differenced,  and 
thus  made  definite.  Definition  is  always  the  recogni- 
tion of  this  relation  of  difference. 

The  Nature  of  Attention. — We  saw  that  a sensuous 
presentation  gets  meaning  by  its  connection  with  past 
experiences  given  by  the  mind  reading  itself  into  the 
sensation.  We  now  see  that  this  connection  is  two- 
fold. The  process  of  adjustment  consists  in  bringing 
the  past  experiences  to  bear  upon  the  present  so  as  to 
unify  it  with  those  ideal  elements  which  resemble  it, 
and  separate  it  from  those  which  are  unlike.  These 
two  processes  necessarily  accompany  each  other,  so 
that,  while  the  goal  of  knowledge  is  complete  unity,  or 
a perfectly  harmonious  relation  of  all  facts  and  events 
to  each  other,  this  unity  shall  be  one  which  shall  con- 
tain the  greatest  possible  amount  of  specification,  or 


148 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


distinction  within  itself.  A relation  necessarily  unifies 
and  separates  at  the  same  time.  It  unifies  because  it 
enables  us  to  see  the  facts  related  in  a common  light , as 
possessed  of  a common  significance ; it  separates  be- 
cause the  two  facts  are  not  fused  into  one  existence , but 
are  rendered  more  definite  than  they  were  before  by  the 
possession  of  a distinct  property . The  final  fact  which 
we  learn  about  attention,  therefore,  is  that  it  is  a re- 
lating activity,  and  that,  since  there  is  no  knowledge 
without  relation,  there  is  none  without  attention.  At- 
tention cannot  cease  until  all  relations  have  been  per- 
fectly developed ; that  is,  until  all  objects,  events,  and 
minor  relations  stand  out  clearly  defined  in  a final 
unity,  and  are  recognized  as  members  of  one  whole — 
the  self.  The  self  constitutes  the  ultimate  unity  of  all. 
We  end,  therefore,  as  we  began,  with  the  statement 
that  attention  is  a self-developing  activity. 

§ G.  Retention. 

Retention  is  thoroughly  bound  up  with  the  apper- 
ceptive activities,  and,  as  the  latter  have  been  treated 
at  length,  may  be  passed  over  with  briefer  notice.  As 
apperception  is  the  reaction  of  the  self  with  the  char- 
acter given  it  by  past  experiences  upon  sensory  presen- 
tations, so  retention  is  the  reaction  of  the  content  thus 
apperceived  upon  the  self.  Apperception  gives  char- 
acter to  the  material  apprehended.  Retention  gives 
character  to  the  self.  The  apperceived  content  is  not 
mechanically  held  in  the  mind,  but  reacts  upon  it  so 
as  to  alter  its  nature.  It  becomes  organically  one  with 
self.  We  shall  consider  retention  under  three  heads: 
I.  Implied  in  apperception  ; II.  Apperception  as  in- 
volved in  it ; III.  The  function  of  retention. 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


149 


I.  The  Implication  of  Retention  in  Apperception. — 
No  apperception,  whether  of  association,  dissociation, 
or  attention,  occurs  except  upon  the  basis  of  past  ex- 
periences. The  mind  is  an  activity  which  connects 
every  fact,  event,  and  relation  with  others.  None  re- 
mains isolated.  The  significance  or  meaning  which  is 
supplied  by  the  apperceptive  activit}r  is  this  connection 
between  various  factors  of  experience,  so  that  one  be- 
comes symbolic  of  another,  or  both  point  to  the  same 
idea.  Such  a connection  evidently  presupposes  that 
past  experiences  still  have  an  ideal  existence ; they  are 
not  utterly  lost,  but  still  exist  preserved  in  some  way 
in  the  self.  Were  they  not  thus  retained,  all  relation 
between  parts  of  experience  would  be  impossible,  and 
apperception  would  not  exist ; i.  e.,  nothing  would  have 
meaning  for  us.  This  has  been  presupposed  in  all  our 
previous  exposition,  which  renders  needless  present 
dwelling  upon  it.  Idealization  we  found  to  be  the 
process  by  which  the  self,  acting  upon  the  basis  of  its 
past  experiences , interprets  sensations. 

II.  Apperception  as  Necessary  to  Retention. — The 
mind  becomes  organized,  gets  definite  character,  only 
through  its  apperceptive  activities.  Without  organized 
mind  there  is,  indeed,  no  apperception  ; but  without 
apperception,  no  organization.  The  mind  can  retain 
or  preserve  as  an  organic  part  of  itself  only  what  it 
has  experienced.  Without  these  experiences  it  would 
remain  a mere  capacity.  The  infant  comes  into  the 
world  with  no  defiyiite  tendencies  and  abilities  except 
some  inherited  ones,  which  are  instinctive.  These  he 
uses  to  gain  experiences  Avith,  but  these  experiences 
once  got,  immediately  react  upon  the  mind  and  develop 
it.  They  organize  it  in  some  particular  direction.  The 


150 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


mind  of  the  child  which  has  apperceived  his  nurse  is 
not  the  same  that  it  wras  before  ; he  has  formed  an  or- 
gan in  his  mind  for  the  performing  of  like  appercep- 
tions in  the  future. 

Illustration  in  Association  and  Attention. — That  re- 
tention requires  apperception  may  be  seen  from  both 
association  and  attention.  We  found  that  the  result  of 
association  was  the  formation  of  a psychical  mechanism, 
the  existence  of  certain  habits,  or  automatic  ways  of 
acting  and  apperceiving.  This  mechanism  is  evidently 
what  we  mean  by  the  organization  of  self ; it  is  what 
the  self  has  retained  from  its  experiences  and  made  or- 
ganic members  of  self.  In  attention,  as  soon  as  the 
mind  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  sensation  so  as  to 
read  itself  into  it  and  give  it  meaning,  the  apperceived 
content  becomes  a condition  which  determines  how  the 
mind  shall  act  in  the  future.  Every  element  thus  ap- 
prehended and  absorbed  into  the  mind  gets  an  ideal 
existence,  and  becomes  the  means  by  which  future 
idealizations,  that  is,  acts  of  attention,  are  executed. 
Attention  forms  apperceptive  organs , in  short. 

III.  Nature  of  Retention. — -The  student  must  avoid 
regarding  retention  as  a mechanical  process.  Reten- 
tion does  not  mean  that  the  mind  retains  as  so  many  par- 
ticular existences  in  itself  all  past  experiences,  as  grains 
of  wheat,  for  example,  are  held  in  a basket.  Our  past 
experiences  have  no  more  actual  existence.  They  are 
gone  with  the  time  in  which  they  occurred.  They 
have,  however,  ideal  existence,  existence  as  wrought 
into  the  character  of  the  self,  and  as  fixing  its  definite 
nature,  and  this  is  what  we  mean  by  retention.  The 
mind  is  not  a storehouse,  nor  does  it  have  compart- 
ments furnished  with  past  experiences.  It  is  not  a 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


151 


chest,  in  the  drawers  and  pigeon-holes  of  which  the 
factors  of  its  life  are  packed  away,  classified  and  la- 
belled. 

Metaphors  from  Organic  Processes. — The  only  illus- 
trations of  its  nature  can  be  drawn  from  vital  phe- 
nomena. It  corresponds  to  the  reception,  digestion,  and 
elaboration  of  food  by  the  living  organism.  As-  the 
tree  is  not  merely  passively  affected  by  the  elements 
of  its  environment — the  substances  of  the  earth,  the  sur- 
rounding moisture  and  gases — as  it  does  not  receive  and 
keep  them  unaltered  in  itself,  but  reacts  upon  them 
and  works  them  over  into  its  living  tissue — its  wood, 
leaves,  etc. — and  thus  grows,  so  the  mind  deals  with  its 
experiences.  And  as  the  substances  thus  organized 
into  the  living  structure  of  the  tree  then  act  in  the  re- 
ception and  elaboration  of  new  material,  thus  insuring 
constant  growth,  so  the  factors  taken  into  the  mind 
constitute  the  ways  by  which  the  mind  grows  in  ap- 
perceiving  power.  But  even  this  analogy  is  defective 
as  concerns  the  higher  activities  of  the  mind.  To  make 
it  complete  we  should  have  to  suppose  that  the  tree 
knew  what  it  was  thus  assimilating,  and  why  it  did  so, 
and  that  it  selected  and  manipulated  its  nutriment 
with  special  reference  to  its  own  development  along 
certain  lines.  The  mind  in  retention  not  only  forms 
its  own  structure,  but  is  conscious  of,  and  can  direct, 
the  processes  by  which  it  does  so. 

Organization. — The  metaphor  explains  why  the  term 
organization  has  been  so  often  employed.  Retention 
organizes  the  mind  in  certain  directions  ; that  is,  it  gives 
it  organs  for  certain  kinds  of  activity.  If  we  suppose 
that  the  mind  at  first  is  merely  indefinite  capacities, 
every  experience  realizes  these  capacities  in  some  di- 


152 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


rection  and  makes  them  definite,  or  really  efficient. 
The  final  result  is  the  formation  of  organs  which  ap- 
perceive  rapidly,  distinctly,  and  adequately  whatever  is 
presented  to  them.  Retention  must,  therefore,  be  dis- 
tinguished from  memory.  Memory,  or  the  power  of 
referring  experiences  to  the  past,  and  of  connecting 
them  with  others  in  the  train  of  ideas,  is  one  of  the 
forms  in  which  psychical  factors  are  related  to  each 
other;  it  is  one  mode  of  apperception.  Retention,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  the  growth  or  development  of  the 
mind  itself,  and  is  necessary  to  memory  and  to  every 
other  form  of  apperception. 

Retention  is  not  of  Copies  of  Ideas. — It  is  not,  there- 
fore, the  ideas  as  wholes  that  are  retained.  There  is 
another  theory  which,  admitting  that  ideas  cease  to 
exist  as  ideas  when  they  pass  out  of  consciousness, 
holds  that  “traces”  or  “residua”  of  these  ideas  per- 
sist, and  that  this  persistence  constitutes  retention. 
But  there  is  no  more  evidence  of  the  retention  of  ideas 
in  faint,  partial,  or  mutilated  form  than  there  is  of 
them  in  their  totality.  Such  a conception  rests  upon 
a mechanical  and  spatial  analogy  which  has  no  place. 
In  the  first  place,  the  idea  is  never  a thing  having  an 
independent,  separate  existence ; it  is  only  a function 
of  mind  ; that  is,  the  mind  considered  in  a certain  mode 
of  activity.  When  the  mind  passes  on  into  a new 
mode  of  action,  the  idea,  as  such,  ceases  to  exist.  In 
the  second  place,  since  it  is  not  an  independent  thing, 
the  idea  can  leave  no  separate  “trace”  behind  it,  if  by 
trace  be  meant  a remnant  or  enfeebled  copy  of  the 
original  idea.  If,  however,  the  word  is  used  to  denote 
the  fact  that  the  idea  does  not  pass  away  without  leav- 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. 


153 


ing  behind  it  some  witness  to  its  existence,  there  is  no 
objection  to  its  use. 

Various  Synonyms  for  Retention. — What  is  retained 
is  the  effect  which  the  idea  produces  upon  the  mind. 
The  idea  is  not  written  in  water,  but  gives  the  soul  a 
certain  set  or  bent  in  some  direction.  Various  terms 
have  been  used  to  denote  the  nature  of  this  effect.  It 
has  been  called  a “disposition,”  that  is,  a tendency, 
towards  the  production  of  a similar  content  in  the  fut- 
ure. The  term  functional  arrangement  has  also  been 
employed  as  suggesting  that  the  retention  consists  in 
an  alteration  in  the  structure  of  the  mind  which  affects 
the  way  in  which  it  functions.  Some  psychologists 
use  the  expression  “dynamical  association”  for  the 
same  fact,  implying  that  the  result  of  any  idea  is  not  a 
mere  statical  existence  in  mind,  but  an  active  tendency 
of  mind  to  operate  along  certain  lines.  But  all  terms 
signify  the  same  fact,  namely,  that  the  mind  grows, 
not  by  keeping  unchanged  within  itself  faint  or  uncon- 
scious copies  of  its  original  experiences,  but  by  assimi- 
lating something  from  each  experience,  so  that  the 
next  time  it  acts  it  has  a more  definite  mode  of  activity 
to  bring  to  bear,  one  which  supplies  a greater  content 
to  whatever  is  acted  upon.  This  is  the  psychological 
side,  just  as  we  must  suppose  the  physiological  side  to 
be,  not  preservation  of  copies  of  the  original  molecular 
motions,  but  such  a change  in  the  structure  of  the  ner- 
vous system  that,  in  responding  to  future  stimuli,  it 
acts  in  a more  complex  way,  containing  elements  due 
to  the  former  motions. 

The  literature  of  the  association  of  ideas  is  exceedingly  voluminous,  the 
theory  having  been  the  foundation  of  one  school  of  British  Psychology  since 
the  time  of  Hume,  of  Hartley,  and,  in  another  and  different  form,  of  German 


154 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Psychology  following  Herbart.  The  following  references  will  serve  as  a clew 
to  the  treatment  of  the  subject:  Brown,  “ Philosophy  of  Mind,”  vol.  ii.,  pp. 
211-325 ; Hamilton,  “ Metaphysics,”  lects.  xxxi.  and  xxxii. ; Porter,  “ Human 
Intellect,”  pp.  269-299 ; Bain,  “ Sense  and  Intellect, "passim,  but  especially  pp. 
355-369;  463-498;  559-623;  Sully,  “ Psychology,”  pp.  233-275 ; Spencer  (op. 
C(V.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  228-271 ; Robertson,  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  9th  edition ; 
Bradley7,  “ Principles  of  Logic,”  pp.  273-321  (critical  and  constructive,  very  val- 
uable) ; Murray  “ Handbook  of  Psychology,”  pp.  75-104 ; Hodgson,  “ Philoso- 
phy of  Reflection,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  273-287,  and  upon  redintegration  in  particular, 
his  “Time  and  Space,”  pp.  256-295;  compare  also  the  valuable  articles  by 
James,  Popular  Science  Monthly,  on  “Association  of  Ideas,”  and  in  Journal 
of  Speculative  Philosophy,  on  “ Human  and  Brute  Intellect.”  For  a general 
account  of  the  theory7,  see  Ferri,  “ La  Psyxhologie  de  l’Association.”  For  the 
Herbartian  theory7,  see  Herbart,  “ Lehrbuch  der  Psychologie,”  pt.  i.,  chap.  3 , 
Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  338-371 ; Drobisch,  “ Mathematische  Psycho- 
logie,” and  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  82-133 ; Schilling,  “ Psychologie,”  § 22  ff. ; Steinthal 
(op.  cit.),  pp.  115-163.  For  other  German  views,  see  Lotzc,  “ Microcosmus” 
(transl.),  pp.  193-219;  “ Elements  of  Psychology  ” (trails].),  pp.  28-40 ; “Meta- 
physic”  (transl.),  pp.  456-470 ; Ulrici  (op.  aV.),  pt.  2,  pp.  232-269  ; Horwicz 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  315-331 ; Glogau,  “ Grundriss  der  Psychologie,”  pt.  3. 
For  experimental  researches  and  conclusions  therefrom,  see  Galton,  “ Human 
Faculty;”  Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  291-317  ; “ Logik,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  11-23; 
“ Philosophische  Studien,”  vol.  i.,  p.  213  ff. ; Strieker,  “ Studien  iiber  die  As- 
sociation der  Yorstellungen.”  Something  about  habit  will  be  found  in  many 
of  the  foregoing  references ; additional  are  Murphy,  “ Habit  and  Intelli- 
gence;” Radestock,  “ Habit  in  Education,”  together  with  Ilorwicz  (op.  cit.), 
vol.  i.,  pp.  357-368,  and  Rosenkranz  (op.  cit.),  pp.  157-163. 

Upon  attention  and  the  relating  activity  consult  Hamilton,  “ Metaphysics,” 
lect.  xiv. ; Sully,  “ Psychology7,”  chap.  iv. ; Sully  on  “ Comparison,”  Mind,  vol. 
x.,  p.  489;  Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  105-108;  Carpenter,  “Mental  Physiology7,” 
chap.  iii. ; Ferrier,  “Functions  of  Brain,”  pp.  284-288  (for  probable  physio- 
logical basis)  ; Maudsley,  “ Physiology  of  Mind,”  pp.  312-321 ; Wundt  (op. 
cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  205-212 ; Lotze,  “ Medicinische  Psychologie,”  p.  506  ff. ; “ Ele- 
ments of  Psychology7,”  pp.  40-47  ; “ Metaphy'sic,”  pp.  470-480 ; Schneider,  a 
monograph  on  “Die  Untersclieidung,”  for  the  distinguishing  activity  of  at- 
tention ; Horwicz  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  226-234  ; Ulrici  (op.  cit.),  pt.  2,  pp.  15- 
42  ; see  also  Bradley7,  Mind,  July7,  1886. 

For  the  nature  of  apperception  as  a whole,  see  in  particular,  Staude,  “ Der 
Begriff  der  Apperception  in  der  neueren  Psychologie,”  in  “ Philosophische 
Studien,”  vol.  i.,  p.  149  ; Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  175-211 ; Wundt  (op. 
cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  219-290;  “ Logik,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  30-65;  Lazarus,  “ Das  Leben 
der  Seele,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  41-58,  251-275,  and  passim;  and  Steinthal  (op.  cit.), 
pp.  166-262.  Special  studies  upon  apperception  in  its  temporal  relations  will 
be  found  by  Fredrich,  Tchisch,  Cattell,  and  others,  in  Wundt’s  “Philoso- 
phische Studien.” 


PROCESSES  OF  KNOW  LEDGE. 


155 


Concerning  the  pedagogical  aspects  of  these  questions,  consult  Lange, 
“Ueber  Apperception;”  Walseraann,  “Das  Interesse;”  Ziller,  “ Allgemeinc 
Padagogik”  (simple  apperception,  pp.  212-2-13 ; complex,  pp.  243-2G6;  in- 
voluntary attention,  pp.  266  - 289 ; voluntary,  pp.  290 -314) ; De  Guimps, 
“ L’Education,”  pp.  101-118;  Thring,  “Theory  and  Practice  of  Education,” 
pp.  165-176 ; Perez,  “First  Three  Years  of  Childhood”  (attention,  pp.  110— 
120;  association,  pp.  131  - 146) ; Frohlich,  “ Wissenschaftliche  Piidagogik,” 
pp.  87-128  ; Beneke,  “ Erziehungslehre,”  pp.  86-118 ; Badestock,  “ Habit  in 
Education,”  and  Lederer’s  “ Methodik  der  Gewohnung.” 


CHAPTER  V. 

STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE.— PERCEPTION. 

§ 1.  Knowledge  as  Self -development. 

We  have  finished  our  study  of  the  material  and  of 
the  process  of  knowledge,  and  we  come  now  to  the 
concrete  facts  — the  result  of  the  processes  upon  the 
material.  These  facts  may  be  arranged  by  either  of 
two  methods,  the  psychological  or  the  chronological. 
The  latter  begins  with  the  earliest  psychical  manifes- 
tations of  the  infant,  and  follows  the  order  of  upward 
growth.  The  former  rests  upon  an  investigation  of 
the  principles  involved,  and  arranges  the  facts  accord- 
ing to  the  relative  simplicity  or  complexity  of  princi- 
ples involved.  These  methods  by  no  means  exclude 
each  other.  The  order  in  which  intelligence  actually 
grows  corresponds,  in  the  main,  to  the  complexity  of 
the  underlying  principles  involved.  To  follow,  how- 
ever, exactly  the  temporal  order  introduces  needless 
confusion  and  repetition.  We  follow,  therefore,  the 
internal,  psychological  order. 

The  Psychological  Order.  — This  may  be  stated  in 
various  ways.  We  may  say  that  intelligence  begins 
with  the  external  and  least  representative  state,  and 
advances  to  the  internal  and  most  symbolic.  That  is 
to  say,  there  is  a stage  in  which  sensations  are  but  little 
transformed,  in  which  they  stand  for  comparatively 
little  besides  their  own  existence.  At  the  other  end 
of  the  scale  there  is  a stage  in  which  the  actual  exist- 
ence of  sensations  is  of  small  value  compared  with  what 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


157 


they  stand  for  or  represent.  This  additional  symbol- 
ism always  gives  additional  meaning;  it  is  introduced 
by  a process  of  idealization.  We  may  say,  therefore, 
that  the  development  of  knowledge  is  a process  of  in- 
creasing idealization  from  the  less  to  the  more  signifi- 
cant. Since  significance  consists  in  relations,  we  may 
say  that  the  growth  of  knowledge  is  measured  by  the 
extent  of  relations  concerned.  Each  advancing  stage 
is  characterized  by  the  development  of  a new  and 
wider-reaching  sphere  of  relations.  These  three  modes 
of  statement  may  be  summed  up  by  saying  that  intelli- 
gence is  a process  of  realization  of  itself,  and  that  it 
occurs  as  new  relations  are  developed  and  new  meaning 
given  to  its  products. 

Knowledge  a Progressive  Process.  — There  will  be, 
therefore,  various  stages  in  the  process.  The  indi- 
vidual is  not  born  a realized  self,  but  his  psychical  ex- 
istence is  the  process  of  realization.  Various  forms 
of  knowledge  will,  therefore,  be  recognized  according 
to  the  stage  of  universality  or  realization  of  intelli- 
gence reached.  These  are  the  so-called  faculties  of 
knowledge,  which,  therefore,  are  not  various  powers  of 
the  mind,  but  mark  various  stadia  of  its  development. 
These  “ faculties  ” are  Perception,  Memory,  Imagina- 
tion, Thinking,  Intuition  or  self-consciousness. 

Relation  of  Perception  to  Other  Stages. — There  has 
been  a theory  in  psychology  that  individual  objects 
are  impressed  upon  the  mind  as  wholes  without  any 
constructive  activity  of  the  mind,  and  that  this  process, 
perception,  gives  us  knowledge  of  reality.  The  activity 
of  mind  from  this  point  on  was  supposed  to  consist  in 
combining  and  separating  these  wholes,  so  that  the  re- 
sults are  more  or  less  artificial  in  nature,  and  consti- 


158 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tute  a departure  from  the  simple  realities  made  known 
to  us  in  perception.  But  this  theory  falls  into  a double 
error.  In  the  first  place,  perception  or  knowledge  of 
particular  things  is  not  a passive  operation  of  impres- 
sion, but  involves  the  active  integration  of  various  ex- 
periences. It  is  a process  of  reaching  out  after  the 
fullest  and  richest  experience  possible.  In  illustration, 
consider  the  process  of  scientific  observation.  The 
mind  does  not  wait  for  sensations  to  be  forced  upon  it, 
but  goes  out  in  search  of  them,  supplying  by  experb 
ment  all  possible  conditions  in  order  to  get  new  sen- 
sations and  to  modify  the  old  by  them.  Secondly, 
such  processes  as  imagination  and  thinking  are  not 
mechanically  working  upon  percepts,  but  are  their 
transformation  and  enrichment  in  accordance  with 
the  same  law  of  a demand  for  the  unified  maximum 
of  meaning.  Thinking  transforms  perception  by 
bringing  out  elements  latent  in  it,  thereby  complet- 
ing it. 

§ 2.  Perception. 

Definition. — The  original  and  least  developed,  that 
is,  most  particular,  form  of  knowledge  is  perception. 
Perception  may  be  defined  as  knowledge  of  actually 
present  particular  things  or  events.  The  object  of  the 
perceiving  activity  of  mind  is,  in  ordinary  phrase, “the 
world  of  the  senses.”  It  is  the  stage  of  knowledge 
least  advanced  in  the  interpretation  of  sensations,  the 
world  of  things  seen,  heard,  touched,  tasted,  etc.  Be- 
fore explaining  the  process  we  shall  analyze  out  the 
main  characteristics  of  this  perceived  world,  in  order 
to  see  more  definitely  what  the  problem  is  which  we 
have  to  explain. 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


159 


I.  Problem  of  Perception. — The  world  of  perceived 
objects  has  the  following  characteristics : (1)  it  is  not 
ourselves ; (2)  it  is  made  up  of  particular  separate 
things  and  events;  (3)  which,  when  perceived,  are  ex- 
isting in  space. 

1.  The  world  of  perception,  with  all  the  things  that 
constitute  it,  is  set  over  against  the  self.  The  world  ap- 
pears to  be  there  independent  of  the  intelligence  ; the 
latter  has  only  to  open  its  sensory  organs  and  let  the 
world  report  itself  in  consciousness.  It  is  an  external 
world,  while  the  mind  appears  to  be  wholly  internal. 
The  train  of  ideas  which  seems  to  constitute  the  mind 
comes  and  goes,  but  this  effects  no  change  in  the  ob- 
jects. All  existences  and  all  changes  in  this  world 
are  due  to  physical  laws,  independent  of  the  mind. 
To  perceive  is  opposed  to  thinking.  The  latter  is  sub- 
jective, depending  upon  intelligence  for  its  existence. 
The  former  is  objective,  and  is  there  whether  intelli- 
gence exists  or  not.  Such  is  the  apparent  relation  which 
the  perceived  world  bears  to  the  perceiving  self.  In 
perception  not-self  is  entirely  discriminated  from  self. 

2.  The  world  thus  set  over  against  self  is  constituted 
by  particular  concrete  things.  As  I open  my  eyes  I 
perceive  a room  ; in  this  room  are  chairs,  tables,  books, 
pictures,  etc.  These  are  all  distinct  things.  Extend 
this  perception  and  we  have  the  whole  world  before 
us.  Each  object  appears  to  be  just  itself,  separated 
from  every  other  object,  and  without  any  necessary 
relation  to  it.  One  may  be  in  another,  as  the  table  is 
in  the  room ; or  by  another,  as  the  chair  is  near  the  ta- 
ble ; but  this  is  purely  accidental.  The  table  would  be 
just  as  much  a table  if  it  were  in  the  open  air  and  near 
a tree. 


160 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


3.  The  perceived  world  is  a present  world ; that  is, 
one  existing  in  space.  This  distinguishes  it  from  the 
remembered  world,  which  is  equally  set  over  against 
the  self,  and  equally  composed  of  particular  elements, 
but  which  is  a past  world,  or  one  existing  in  time. 
Every  perceived  object  has  spatial  relations,  both  as  a 
whole  to  other  objects,  and  of  its  various  constituent 
parts  to  each  other. 

II.  Solution  of  the  Problem.  — Psychology,  accord- 
ingly, has  to  explain  how  the  sensations,  the  elementa- 
ry, raw  constituents  of  knowledge,  are  transformed 
into  this  spatial  world  of  definite  things  through  the 
processes  of  apperception  and  retention.  Before  com- 
ing to  the  positive  solution,  we  shall  discuss  certain 
ways  in  which  the  problem  cannot  be  solved. 

Incorrect  Solutions. — It  cannot  be  solved  from  the 
mere  existence  of  the  external  world.  The  world  ex- 
ists undoubtedly  absolutely  without  any  dependence 
upon  the  individual  minds  which  know  it,  but  which 
are  merely  born  into  it.  But  the  perceived  world  is 
more  than  an  existent  world ; it  is  a world  existent  for 
the  consciousness  of  the  individual,  a known  world ; 
and  knowledge  is  a process  of  intelligence,  not  of  ex- 
isting things.  The  fact  to  be  explained  is  that  of 
knowledge,  and  the  mere  existence  of  objects  does  not 
suffice  for  this.  But  it  may  be  supposed  that  the  af- 
fections which  these  objects  occasion  in  the  mind,  the 
sensations,  will  suffice  to  explain  the  knowledge.  This 
is  also  an  error.  The  sensations  are  mere  subjective 
states  of  consciousness,  and  do  not  go  beyond  them- 
selves. They  tell  us  nothing  of  self  or  not-self,  ob- 
jects or  space.  The  sensations,  in  short,  must  be  con- 
strued, must  be  interpreted,  by  intelligence. 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. PERCEPTION. 


161 


Positive  Solution. — The  presence  to  the  mind  of  the 
world  as  perceived  must  be  explained  from  the  process 
of  knowing.  It  is  due  to  the  activity  of  the  mind, 
which  not  only  has  sensations,  but  which  takes  them 
and  projects  them.  It  relates  itself  actively  to  them 
by  associating  and  attending  to  them.  We  have  now 
to  study  the  means  by  which  the  apperceiving  activity 
of  mind  transforms  the  data  of  sensation  into  (1)  con- 
crete definite  objects  (2)  existing  in  space  and  (3)  ex- 
ternal to  ourselves. 

1.  This  may  be  passed  over  rapidly,  as  it  has  often 
been  treated.  Take,  for  example,  the  visual  percep- 
tion of  a tree.  The  actual  presented  data  are  sensa- 
tions of  light,  and  muscular  sensations  due  to  the  mov- 
ing of  the  eye  from  one  point  to  another.  These 
sensations  must  first  be  joined  together,  or  fused,  by 
simultaneous  association,  so  that  they  may  become  ca- 
pable of  reference  to  one  object.  These  sensations  must 
also  redintegrate -all  previous  elements  involved  in  the 
perception  of  a tree,  whether  visual,  tactual,  or  got 
through  whatever  sense,  and  these  must  be  assimilated 
to  those  actually  present.  But  it  is  not  yet  the  per- 
ception of  a tree  ; it  is  only  various  consolidated  sen- 
sations. The  interpreting,  discriminating,  unifying 
activity  of  attention  must  come  in  and  translate  these 
sensations  into  the  definite  meaning  of  a tree. 

The  Perceived  Object.  — The  characteristics  of  the 
perceived  object,  viz.,  that  it  is  & particular  and  a defi- 
nite object,  are  due  to  the  unifying  and  discriminating 
activities  of  intelligence.  Perception  may  be  defined 
as  the  act  in  which  the  presented  sensuous  data  are 
made  symbols  or  signs  of  all  other  sensations  which 
might  be  experienced  from  the  same  object,  and  thus 


162 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


are  given  meaning,  while  they  are  unified  by  being 
connected  in  one  wholeness  of  meaning,  and  made  defi- 
nite by  being  discriminated  from  all  mental  contents 
possessing  different  meaning.  The  unity  of  a per- 
ceived object  expresses  the  fact  that  it  has  been  grasped 
together  in  one  act  of  mind ; its  particular  character 
expresses  the  fact  that  this  same  act  has  separated  it 
from  all  other  acts  of  mind.  An  object,  in  short,  is 
the  objectified  interpreting  activity  of  intelligence. 

2.  Spatial  Relations. — All  objects,  as  perceived,  are 
projected  in  space,  and  given  definite  position.  This 
is  seen  most  clearly  in  the  case  of  sensations  of  touch 
and  sight,  which  form  the  especial  data  of  space  per- 
ception. There  are  two  reasons  for  this : they  are  the 
two  sensitive  organs  which  have  their  endings  extended, 
and  hence  can  receive  simultaneous  impressions ; and 
they  are  also  the  organs  which  have  the  most  intimate 
connection  with  muscular  associations.  The  mere  pres- 
ence of  simultaneous  sensations,  however,  is  not  iden- 
tical with  perception  of  spatial  coexistence.  The  mind 
must  recognize  their  distinction,  and  construe  them 
spatially.  The  “local  signs”  (page  55)  serve  to  pre- 
vent their  fusion,  and  intelligence  then  interprets  these 
local  signs,  through  their  association  with  muscular 
sensations,  into  spatial  order. 

Importance  of  Muscular  Sensations.  — The  sensory 
organs  which  are  not  mobile  furnish  no  perceptions, 
but  only  feelings.  Just  in  the  degree  in  which  the  or- 
gan is  mobile,  perception  is  ready  and  accurate.  Hence 
it  is  that  the  general  sensations,  smell  and  hearing, 
give  us  comparatively  little  knowledge  of  space  rela- 
tions, while  sight  and  touch  are  all-important.  So,  too, 
the  finest  discriminative  organs  of  touch  are  the  tip  of 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


1G3 


finger  and  tongue,  which  are  the  most  mobile.  It  may 
be  said,  therefore,  that  the  perception  of  space  relations 
is  due  to  the  association  of  muscular  sensations  with 
others,  interpreted  by  the  apperceptive  activity  of 
mind.  In  the  explanation  8f  this  association  there  are 
two  points  to  be  considered  : first,  the  process  by  which 
the  muscular  sensations  which  accompany  movement 
give  definiteness  to  the  sensations  of  touch  and  sight ; 
second,  the  process  by  which  these  latter  sensations  be- 
come. symbolic  of  the  former,  so  that  finally  the  defi- 
nite perception  takes  place,  although  no  movement 
occurs. 

Tactual  Perception. — If  an  adult  lays  his  hand  upon 
something  he  has  a vague  perception  of  space  relations, 
while  it  requires  movement  to  explore  the  outlines  and 
make  it  definite.  Infants,  however,  have  not  even 
such  a vague  perception.  It  is,  therefore,  the  result 
of  a process  by  which  tactual  sensations  have  become 
symbolic  of  motor.  Originally  the  child  will  have 
muscular  sensations  as  he  moves  his  hands,  and  also 
sensations  of  contact  proper.  It  is  the  element  of  “ lo- 
cal sign,”  the  element  which  differentiates  every  sen- 
sation of  touch  from  every  other,  with  which  we  are 
especially  concerned ; and  the  problem  is  to  see  how, 
from  the  union  of  motor  and  local  sensations,  the  per- 
ceptions of  size,  form,  direction,  and  distance  arise. 

Association  of  Motor  and  Local  Elements. — The  in- 
fant, as  his  hand  is  at  rest  upon  some  object,  receives 
simultaneously  a large  number  of  sensations,  each  of 
which  is  kept  from  fusion  with  others  by  its  charac- 
teristic local  sign.  Thus  there  is  constituted  a series  of 
sensations  qualitatively  different  from  one  another,  not  a 
perception  of  related  points.  It  is  not  even  a perception 


164: 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  isolated  points,  for  a point  can  be  perceived  only  by 
locating  it  with  reference  to  other  points,  giving  it  re- 
lation. With  the  movement  of  the  hand  there  arise 
certain  fixed  associations.  It  requires  a certain  amount 
of  movement,  and  thus  occasions  a certain  amount  of 
muscular  sensation  to  pass,  say,  from  the  local  sign  of 
the  thumb  to  that  of  the  little  finger.  This  muscular 
sensation  will  evidently  vary  with  the  distance  between 
any  two  local  signs,  and  also  with  the  direction  which 
they  are  from  each  other.  It  will  not  give  the  same 
kind  of  sensation  to  go  from  the  little  finger  to  the 
thumb  as  from  the  latter  to  the  wrist.  Thus  the  mus- 
cular sensations  begin  to  connect  the  isolated  local  signs 
with  each  other,,  and  to  serve  as  signs  of  distance  and 
direction.  All  the  points  of  the  hand,  and,  indeed,  of 
the  body,  come  to  be  definitely  placed  or  ordered  with 
reference  to  each  other  through  the  medium  of  the 
amount  of  muscular  sensation  necessary  to  change  any 
one  local  sign  into  another. 

Perception  without  Movement.  — The  associations 
thus  formed  between  the  motor  sensations  and  the  lo- 
cal signs  are  so  fixed  and  strong  that,  as  in  all  associa- 
tions, one  element  of  it  becomes  capable  of  symbolizing 
the  other.  The  actual  presence  of  one  redintegrates  the 
ideal  presence  of  the  other.  Finally,  the  hand  may  be 
entirely  at  rest,  and  only  tactual  sensations  be  actu- 
ally given  to  the  mind.  Each  of  these  will  suggest, 
however,  the  muscular  sensation  which  has  in  previous 
experiences  been  associated  with  it,  and  hence  symbol- 
ize to  the  mind  its  distance  and  direction  from  all  other 
points. 

Visual  Perception. — Here  we  have  to  consider  two 
points : the  process  by  which  tactual  sensations  are  sym- 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


165 


bolized  through  visual ; and  the  process  by  which  vis- 
ual sensations  become  simultaneously  symbolic  of  each 
other,  and  thus  become  the  signs  of  spatial  relations. 

Ultimately  visual  perception  rests  on  tactual.  The 
visual  perception  of  space,  in  its  definite  forms  at 
least,  is  representative,  and  embodies  for  the  mind  the 
results  of  tactual  perceptions.  To  say  that  an  object 
is  seen  to  be  at  such  a distance,  means  that  so  much 
muscular  sensation  must  be  had  before  it  can  be 
touched ; to  say  that  it  is  of  such  an  outline,  is  to  say 
that  certain  muscular  and  local  sensations  would  be 
had  if  the  hand  were  passed  about  it,  etc.  According 
to  this  theory,  originally  propounded  by  Bishop  Berke- 
ley, spatial  relations  are  not  originally  perceived  by  the 
eye,  but  are  the  result  of  the  association  of  visual  sen- 
sations with  previous  muscular  and  tactual  experi- 
ences. These  latter  having  become,  through  the  proc- 
ess already  described,  the  signs  of  space  relations,  are 
transferred  to  the  ocular  sensations  constantly  associ- 
ated with  them,  so  that  the  latter  redintegrate  them 
when  they  are  not  actually  present.  Thus  the  adult 
comes  to  see  all  that  he  could  touch  if  he  tried.  The 
visual  sensations  immediately  and  instantaneously  call 
up  all  the  tactual  perceptions  which  have  been  associated 
with  them,  so  that  the  individual  has  all  the  benefit  of 
his  previous  experiences  without  being  obliged  to  repeat 
them,  or  in  this  case  actually  to  touch  the  objects. 

Evidence  of  the  Theory. — The  proofs  of  this  theory 
of  the  acquired  nature  of  sight  perception  of  space  are 
found  in  the  observations  made  upon  infants,  and  upon 
the  congenital  blind,  when  given  sight.  The  child 
grasping  for  the  moon,  and  crying  because  he  cannot 
get  it,  illustrates  the  defective  nature  of  visual  space 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


I o~  nrii 


166 


perception,  when  not  associated  with  muscular  sensa- 
tions. The  blind,  when  first  made  to  see,  have  no  idea 
of  the  distance,  form,  and  size  of  objects,  unless  they 
can  walk  to  them  and  touch  them.  Some  describe  all 
things  seen  as  touching  their  eyes,  as  touched  things 
do  their  skin.  Pictures  are  not  regarded  as  copies  of 
actual  spatial  relations,  but  as  planes  painted  various 
colors.  When  the  patients  finally  do  realize  the  per- 
spective significance  of  .paintings,  they  expect,  upon 
touching  one,  to  find  the  foreground  actually  project- 
ing. On  the  other  hand,  after  they  learn  that  seen 
objects  do  not  actually  touch  the  eyes,  they  consider 
them  all  on  a level,  and  are  surprised,  for  example,  to 
find  when  they  touch  the  face  that  the  eyes  are  sunken, 
and  the  nose  projected.  They  cannot  tell  a cube  from 
a globe,  a dog  from  a cat,  by  sight  alone.  Hence  it  is 
concluded  that  the  perception  of  spatial  distinctions, 
by  means  of  sight  alone,  is  the  result  of  the  connec- 
tions brought  about  by  means  of  past  experiences  be- 
tween visual  and  tactual  sensations,  so  that  the  former 
finally  s3Tmbolize  all  that  the  latter  convey.  However, 
it  is  hardly  to  be  denied  that  sight  by  itself  gives  a 
vague  rudimentary  perception  of  space  as  a whole, 
though  this  is  rendered  definite  only  by  association. 

Visual  Perception  Proper. — This  association  with 
tactual  perception  we  will  now  suppose  to  be  accom- 
plished, and  proceed  to  inquire  how  the  various  optical 
sensations  are  connected  so  as  to  symbolize  spatial  dis- 
tinctions. Here  we  shall  take  up : (1)  Direction  ; (2) 
Distance  ; (3)  Size  and  form. 

(1.)  Direction. — For  a time  it  was  thought  that  di- 
rection was  an  element  involved  in  the  sensation  itself, 
and  that  the  retina  unconsciously  projected,  as  it  were, 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


1G7 


every  excitation  along  the  line  of  the  ray  of  light  which 
occasioned  it.  It  is  better,  however,  to  regard  the  ele- 
ment of  direction  as  the  result  of  the  activity  of  the 
mind  in  interpreting  the  sensations.  The  latter  are,  first, 
the  sensations  which  inform  us  of  the  position  of  the 
head,  and  of  the  eye  in  the  head.  Everything  is  placed 
relatively  to  the  position  of  the  body  thus  fixed.  Then, 
secondly,  we  have  the  sensations  of  the  movements  of 
the  head  and  eye,  which  are  necessary  to  bring  the 
image  of  the  object  upon  the  point  of  most  acute 
vision.  The  muscular  sensations  which  accompany 
the  turning  of  the  eye  up  or  down,  right  or  left,  be- 
come signs  of  the  variation  of  the  direction  of  the  ob- 
ject looked  at,  from  a direction  perpendicular  to  the 
plane  of  the  body. 

Law  of  Perception  of  Direction. — This  association 
between  muscular  sensation  and  direction  being  once 
firmly  fixed,  it  is  no  longer  necessary  to  move  the  eyes  in 
order  to  know  the  direction  of  objects.  A sensation  of 
any  part  of  the  retina  symbolizes,  through  past  associa- 
tions, the  amount  of  movement  necessary  to  bring  the 
sensation  upon  the  yellow  spot,  and  thus  symbolizes, 
without  movement,  the  direction.  The  law  is,  there- 
fore, that  all  bodies  are  seen  according  to  the  direction 
in  which  it  is  customary  to  receive  sensations  of  light — 
not  always  in  the  direction  in  which  it  actually  comes. 
Thus  if  by  some  artificial  means  light  stimulates  the 
retina  from  one  side  instead  of  through  the  pupil, 
as  ordinarily,  the  sensation  is  still  projected  as  if  the 
object  were  in  front,  and  the  stimulus  had  entered  in 
its  usual  way.  This  is  evidently  because  through  past 
experience  there  has  been  an  association  formed  be- 
tween this  direction  and  a sensation  on  this  part  of  the 


168 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


retina.  The  same  law  accounts  for  the  fact  that  ob- 
jects are  seen  erect,  and  not  inverted,  like  the  retinal 
image.  The  position  of  the  sensation  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  perception,  except  through  the  associations 
that  have  been  formed  ; and  in  this  case  a sensation  on 
the  upper  part  of  the  retina  is  associated  with  an  ob- 
ject in  the  lower  part  of  the  field  of  vision,  as  made 
known  through  touch. 

(2.)  Distance. — This  includes  both  distance  of  the 
object,  as  a whole,  from  the  eye,  and  relative  distance 
of  one  part  of  the  object  from  another — depth  or  geo- 
metrical solidity.  We  begin  with  a study  of  the  ob- 
ject as  made  known  to  a single  eye  at  rest.  Such  per- 
ceptions of  distance  are  limited  and  inaccurate.  Such 
signs  as  we  do  have,  apart  from  movement,  are  five 
in  number.  First,  the  dimness  or  distinctness  of  the 
retinal  image  serves  as  a sign  of  nearness  or  remote- 
ness. The  farther  away  the  object  the  less  the  light 
that  reaches  the  eye,  and  the  more  vague  the  image. 
Anything  that  tends  to  increase  the  intensity  of  the 
sensation,  such  as  clear  air,  etc.,  decreases  the  appar- 
ent distance.  The  strain  of  the  accommodation  mus- 
cle of  the  eye  is  another  sign  of  distance.  The  less 
distant  the  object  the  more  tense  will  be  the  muscle, 
and  the  stronger  the  resulting  sensation.  The  fact 
that  objects  which  are  nearer  than  others  cover  them, 
is  a third  means  of  estimating  distance.  The  so- 
called  parallax  of  motion  constitutes  a fourth ; when 
we  are  moving,  near  objects  seem  to  move  by  more 
remote  ones ; the  nearer  the  object  the  more  rapid  the 
apparent  movement.  If  the  absolute  size  of  an  object 
is  known,  its  ajtparent  size  aids  in  deciding  upon  dis- 
tance. If  we  see  a speck  which  we  know  none  the  less 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PEKCEPTION. 


169 


to  be  a man,  we  know  it  to  be  remote.  Thus  the  tele- 
scope, by  enlarging  the  image,  seems  to  lessen  distance. 

The  Eyes  in  Motion. — All  these  means  together  give 
only  an  inadequate  perception.  The  movement  of  the 
eyes  is  necessary  for  a complete  and  adequate  percep- 
tion of  distance.  It  is  particularly  the  combined  move- 
ments of  the  two  eyes  that  are  serviceable  here.  The 
difficulty  of  judging  with  one  eye  may  be  realized  by 
attempting  to  thread  a needle  with  one  eye  closed. 
Monocular  vision  is  also  open  to  deceit  in  the  judg- 
ment of  solidity,  as  in  the  perception  of  reliefs,  and 
even  of  paintings.  Nor  is  perception  of  distance  in- 
stantaneous with  one  eye.  Movements  have  to  be  ex- 
ecuted to  and  fro,  right  and  left,  and  put  together 
piecemeal  into  a final  perception.  But  with  binocular 
vision  the  perception  of  the  third  dimension  of  space 
is  accurate,  minute,  and  instantaneous,  as  is  witnessed 
by  the  fact  that  solidity  may  be  perceived  during  a 
flash  of  lightning. 

Cause  of  Superiority. — -The  superiority  of  binocular 
vision  is  primarily  due  to  the  fact  that  the  muscular 
sensations  which  result  from  the  convergence  of  the 
two  eyes  upon  any  object  is  a sign  of  its  distance. 
The  greater  the  distance  the  less  will  be  the  converg- 
ence and  the  intensity  of  the  sensations,  while  at  a 
great  distance  the  eyes  become  parallel.  The  varying 
degrees  of  convergence  thus  become  signs  of  the  vary- 
ing distances  of  objects.  We  judge  an  object  to  have 
three  dimensions  when  we  have  to  converge  the  eyes 
more  and  less  upon  looking  at  different  points  of  it, 
while  we  consider  it  plane  when,  upon  the  fixation  of 
various  points  within  it,  the  muscular  sensations  of  con- 
vergence remain  the  same. 

8 


170 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Instantaneous  Perception. — But  this  does  not  ac- 
count for  the  fact  that  we  can  perceive  differences  of 
distance  or  geometrical  solidity  without  converging 
the  eyes  at  different  points,  or  in  one  and  the  same  act. 
This  is  due  to  previous  associations  between  these  mus- 
cular sensations  and  the  purely  visual  sensations,  where- 
by the  latter  become  capable  of  taking  the  place  of 
the  former.  If  an  object  fixated  by  the  two  eyes  has 
three  dimensions,  the  images  in  the  two  eyes  are  un- 
like ; more  of  the  right  side  of  the  object  is  seen  by  the 
right  eye,  more  of  its  left  side  by  the  left  eye.  But  if 
the  object  is  a plane  surface,  the  images  upon  the  two 
eyes  will  not  differ.  It  is  this  differential  element 
which  enables  us  to  judge  solidity  without  testing  by 
various  degrees  of  convergence.  This  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that  if  a body,  as  the  moon,  be  so  far  away  that  it 
produces  the  same  image  in  both  eyes,  it  appears  flat, 
while  a near  object,  spherical  on  a much  smaller  scale, 
as  the  lamp  globe,  is  perceived  to  be  a curved  surface. 

Direct  Proof. — The  dependence  of  the  perception 
of  depth  upon  difference  in  retinal  sensations  is  more 
directly  proved  b}7  the  stereoscope.  In  stereoscopic 
vision  we  have  two  pictures  which  are  not  exactly 
alike,  but  which  are  taken  from  two  cameras,  and  hence 
represent  the  object  from  somewhat  unlike  points  of 
view.  If  by  an  arrangement  of  lenses,  or  otherwise, 
one  of  these  pictures  is  seen  only  by  one  eye,  and  the 
other  by  the  other,  the  two  eyes  being  converged  upon 
the  same  point,  we  have  all  the  conditions  of  the  ordi- 
nary perception  of  solidity  fulfilled,  and  the  result  is  a 
marvellous  confirmation  of  our  theory.  The  objects 
in  the  picture  appear  no  longer  on  a flat  surface,  but 
projected  into  space.  No  more  sufficient  proof  that 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


171 


the  perception  of  depth  is  due  to  variation  in  the  two 
retinal  images  could  be  desired. 

The  Field  of  Vision. — In  the  perception  of  the  spa- 
tial held  as  a whole,  all  distances  are  fixed  primarily 
with  reference  to  the  position  of  the  body,  and,  sec- 
ondarily, with  reference  to  each  other.  It  is,  in  fact, 
the  mutual  reference  of  objects  to  each  other  that 
makes  perception  accurate  and  complete.  The  ele- 
ments of  size,  direction,  and  distribution  of  light  and 
shade  come  into  this  mutual  reference  as  deciding 
factors.  An  object  can  be  placed  in  the  field  of  vision 
without  these  factors  very  imperfectly,  even  if  all  the 
signs  previously  mentioned  are  present.  This  is  seen, 
for  example,  by  observing  the  approach  of  the  head- 
light of  a locomotive  in  the  midst  of  surrounding  dark- 
ness. It  will  be  found  almost  impossible  to  judge  of 
its  distance,  or  its  place  with  reference  to  other  objects. 
But  if  surrounding  objects  be  lighted  up  in  some  way, 
the  locomotive  will  be  immediately  placed  properly 
and  accurately.  All  spatial  perception  is  relative.  We 
place  one  object  only  when  we  connect  it  with  others. 

(3.)  Size. — The  principal  datum  for  determining  size 
is  the  amount  of  sensation.  The  larger  an  object,  the 
greater  will  be  the  portion  of  the  retina  stimulated. 
This  holds  good,  however,  only  when  objects  are  at  the 
same  distance.  A pin-head  near  by  will  stimulate  more 
of  the  retina  than  a tree  farther  away.  The  amount 
of  sensation  is  useful  as  a sign  of  size  only  when  the 
distance  of  the  object  is  already  known.  Hence  what- 
ever affects  our  judgments  of  distance  affects  the  per- 
ception of  magnitude.  A man  seen  in  a fog  may  ap 
pear  of  great  size  because  the  fog  occasions  indistinct- 
ness of  image,  and  consequent  perception  of  apparent 


172 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


greater  distance,  and  this,  since  the  amount  of  retinal 
stimulation  remains  the  same,  the  judgment  of  in- 
creased size.  Many  other  illusions  of  size  are  to  be  ac- 
counted for  in  the  same  way.  All  judgments  of  size 
are  inaccurate  where  there  is  no  opportunity  of  com- 
parison. Perception  otform  goes  with  that  of  size;  it 
is  outline  of  magnitude. 

3.  Objects  as  not  Ourselves. — Having  explained  the 
perception  of  particular  concrete  objects  in  their  space 
relations,  we  have  now  to  explain  the  fact  that  they  are 
contrasted  with  and  set  over  against  self.  Virtually 
this  is  included  in  what  has  already  been  said.  The 
sensations  in  being  unified  and  objectified  by  their 
projection  in  space  are  by  these  very  acts  made  not- 
self.  Space  is  externality,  and  all  that  exists  in  space 
is  hence  recognized  as  external  to  self.  Why  it  is, 
however,  that  we  perceive  objects  external  to  our- 
selves, that  is,  as  in  space,  has  not  been  explained.  We 
have  just  shown  upon  the  basis  of  what  sensations  the 
perception  of  spatial  relations  is  formed,  but  this  does 
not  touch  the  question  why  perception  should  take 
upon  itself  the  form  of  space  as  externality.  This  is 
equivalent  to  the  question  why  intelligence  should  dis- 
tinguish between  self  and  not-self. 

Perception  as  Distinction. — In  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion, it  may  be  said  that  the  separation  of  objects  in 
space  from  self  is  the  fundamental  form  in  which  the 
universal  activity  of  mind,  as  a distinguishing  activity, 
manifests  itself.  In  perception  this  discriminating 
factor  predominates  over  the  unifying.  The  action  of 
the  unifying  function  of  mind  is  witnessed  in  the  fact 
that  particular  objects  are  identified  as  such  and  such, 
and  that  all  objects  are  regarded  as  constituting  one 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. — PERCEPTION. 


173 


world,  while  all  ideas  about  them  are  referred  to  one 
self.  The  predominance,  however,  of  the  distinguish- 
ing function  is  witnessed  by  the  fact  that  each  of  these 
objects  is  distinct  from  every  other,  and  all  from  the 
self.  This  is  manifested  in  the  existence  of  space. 
Every  part  of  space  is  regarded  as  outside  of  every 
other  point,  while  space,  as  a whole,  is  regarded  as 
wholly  external  to  and  independent  of  mind.  It  is 
the  extreme  form  of  the  differentiating  activity  of  in- 
telligence, which  in  perception  thus  results  in  com- 
plete self-externalization.  This  opposition  of  self  to 
not-self  in  perception  is,  therefore,  one  of  the  stages  in 
which  relation , constituting  the  essence  of  all  knowl- 
edge, appears. 

The  Will  as  Distinguishing  Power. — The  principal 
agent  in  bringing  about  this  separation  of  objects  from 
self  is  the  will.  It  has  already  been  pointed  out  that 
perception  of  spatial  relations  occurs  only  in  conjunc- 
tion with  muscular  sensations  ; but  muscular  sensations 
are  ultimately  occasioned  by  the  activity  of  the  will  in 
bringing  about  movements.  Involuntary  muscles  have 
no  connection  with  any  perception  of  space.  Fur- 
thermore, it  is  to  be  noticed  that  it  is  the  connection 
of  muscular  sensations  with  those  of  sight  and  touch 
which  we  employ  to  decide  whether  any  sensation  is 
subjective,  or  is  to  be  referred  to  an  object.  When- 
ever the  muscular  sensation  cannot  be  dissociated  from 
the  other,  we  do  not  refer  the  sensation  to  a thing, 
that  is,  do  not  objectify  it ; otherwise  we  do.  If,  for 
example,  I wish  to  decide  whether  a spot  of  red  which 
I seem  to  see  on  the  wall  is  really  there,  or  is  only  an 
organic  affection,  I move  my  head  and  eyes.  If  the 
“spot”  then  changes  with  change  of  muscular  sensa- 


174 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tion,  we  say  that  it  is  “ in  one’s  eyes.”  If  it  remains 
permanent,  and  is  dissociated  from  the  muscular  sen- 
sation, it  is  referred  to  the  object.  Were  there  no  will 
to  originate  these  movements,  there  is  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  we  should  ever  come  to  distinguish  sensations 
as  objective  or  referred  to  things,  or  as  subjective,  re- 
ferred to  the  organism.  It  is  by  an  active  process  of 
experimentation,  directed  by  the  will,  that  the  infant 
comes  to  distinguish  between  self  and  not-self. 

Nature  of  Perception. — Perception,  as  a whole,  is 
that  stage  or  phase  of  knowledge  in  which  the  func- 
tion of  discrimination  or  differentiation  predominates 
over  that  of  identification  or  unification.  Since  the 
end  of  knowledge  is  the  complete  unity  of  perfectly 
discriminated  or  definite  elements,  it  follows  that  per- 
ception is  not  a final  stage  of  knowledge.  There  are 
relations  of  identity  which  connect  objects  with  each 
other,  and  with  the  self,  which  are  enveloped  or  ab- 
sorbed in  perception,  and  which  must  be  developed  or 
brought  into  consciousness.  The  next  stage,  in  which 
this  is  partially  done,  is  memory,  where  the  relations 
which  connect  objects  with  each  other  in  a series,  and 
with  the  self  as  permanent,  are  given  explicit  existence 
in  consciousness.  The  relations  of  time,  that  is  to  say, 
which  connect  events  with  each  other,  and  with  the 
self,  are  developed. 

We  begin  with  some  references  to  the  general  subject  of  perception,  and 
then  pass  on  to  the  special  discussion  of  space  perception,  where  the  litera- 
ture, from  a psychological  point  of  view  at  least,  is  much  more  abundant  and 
valuable.  'Ward,  Wncyclopcedia  Hritannica , article  “ Psychology  Hamil- 
ton, “ Metaphysics,”  lects.  xxi.-xxvi. ; Porter  (op.  cit.),  pp.  119-247  ; Morel], 
“Elements  of  Psychology,”  pp.  124-1 GG ; Sully,  “ Psychology,”  chap.  vi. ; Bain 
(op.  cit.),  pp.  309^02;  Jardine  (op.  cit.),  pp.  17-148  ; Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol. 
ii.,  pp.  131-177;  Helmholtz,  “Die  Thatsachen  in  der  Wahrnehmung;”  Yon 
Stein,  “ Uebcr  Wahrnehmung Sergi,  “ Thcoria  Fisiologica  della  Perceziouc.” 


STAGES  OF  KNOWLEDGE. PERCEPTION. 


175 


Visual  perception  is  worthy  of  most  careful  and  detailed  study,  because 
physiological  and  experimental  psychology  have  gone  further  in  dealing  with 
it  than  with  any  other  question  ; because  it  is  so  closely  connected  with  space 
perception,  and  because  so  many  questions  of  wide  psychological  and  even 
philosophical  bearing  centre  in  its  treatment.  It  is  undoubtedly  the  most 
important  special  subject  in  psychology  at  present.  Our  references  are, 
therefore,  fuller  than  usual.  Berkeley,  “ Essay  Towards  a New  Theory  of 
Vision  Mill,  “ Dissertations  and  Discussions,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  162  ff. ; Brown 
(op.  cit),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  96-121  ; Abbott,  “ Sight  and  Touch;”  Mon  ck,  “ Space 
and  Vision;”  Le  Conte,  “ Sight ;”  Clarke,  “ Visions ” (illusions  of  sight); 
Carpenter  (op.  cit .),  pp.  176-209;  Foster  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  552-571;  Bernstein 
(op.  cit.').  pp.  137-163  ; Sully,  in  Mind,  vol.  iii.,  pp.  1 and  167  ; Helmholtz, 
“Optique  Physiologique  ” (general  theory,  pp.  561-594;  monocular,  pp.  681- 
876;  binocular,  pp.  877-963);  “ Wiss.  Abhandlungen,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  229-502; 
Wundt,  “ Beitrage  zur  Theorie  der  Sinneswahrnehmung,”  pp.  1 -65 ; 145- 
170 ; “ Vorlesungen,”  vol.  i.,  p.  234  ff. ; “ Phys.  Psychologie,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  61- 
160 ; Hermann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  343-600 ; Lipps,  “ Psychologische  Studien  ” 
(first  three  essays);  Ueberhorst,  “ Die  Entstehung  derGesichtswahrnehmung;” 
Classen,  “ Physiologie  des  Gesichtsinnes,”  and  “ Das  Schlussverfahren  des 
Sehactes;”  Nagel,  “Das  Sehen  mit  zwei  Augen ;”  Cornelius,  “Die  Theorie 
des  Sehens;”  Panum,  “Ueber  das  Sehen;”  Schleiden,  “Theorie  des  Erken- 
nens  durch  den  Gesichtsinn,”  and  especially  Bering,  “ Beitrage  zur  Physiolo- 
gie  ” (for  views  opposed  to  Helmholtz). 

Most  of  the  foregoing  contain  something  upon  spatial  perception,  bu^  fur- 
ther, see  as  follows  : Hamilton  (op.  cit.),  lect.  xxviii. ; Mill,  “ Examination  of 
Hamilton,”  chap.  xiii. ; Hall,  on  “ Muscular  Perception  of  Space,”  in  Mind,  vol. 
iii.,  p.  433;  Montgomery,  on  “Space  and  Touch,”  in  Mind,  vol.  x.,  pp.  227, 
377.  and  512  ; Ribot,  “ Contemporary  German  Psychology,”  chap.  v. ; Helm- 
holtz, “ Opt.  Phys.”  pp.  999  - 1028  ; Lotze,  “ Revue  Philosophique,”  vol.  iv. 
(on  local  signs);  “ Metaplivsic,”  pp.  481-505 ; “Elements  of  Psychology,” 
pp.  47-66  ; Sully,  “ Psychology,”  pp.  173-194  ; Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  159-182 ; 
Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  178-206  ; Mahaffv,  “ Kant’s  Critical  Philoso- 
phy,” vol.  i.,  chap.  iv. ; Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy , vol.  xiii.,  pp.  64 
and  199,  articles  by  Cabot  and  James;  Herbart,  “ Werke,”  vol.  vi.,  p.  114  ff. ; 
Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  36-117 ; Striimpell  (op.  cit.),  pp.  219-233; 
Preyer  (op.  cit.),  Appendix  C ; Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  4-33,  161-178;  and 
“Revue  Phil.”  vol.  vi.  (criticism  of  Lotze  on  local  signs) ; Weber,  “Raum- 
3inn;”  .and  for  a historical  and  critical  discussion  of  the  whole  subject,  see 
Stumpf,  “ Ueber  den  psychologischen  Ursprung  der  Raumvorstellung.” 

For  the  pedagogy  of  perception,  see  any  of  the  numerous  treatises  in  Ger- 
man upon  “ Erziehungslehre,”  and  in  addition,  Perez,  “ First  Three  Years,” 
pp.  32-43;  Jahn,  “ Psychologie,”  pp.  20-30  ; Schnell,  “ Die  Anschauung," 
and  Treuge,  “Der  Anschauungsunterricht.” 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MEMORY. 

Definition  of  Memory. — The  next  higher  stage  of 
knowledge  is  memory,  which  may  be  defined  as  knowl- 
edge of  particular  things  or  events  once  present , but  no 
longer  so.  Memory  consequently  removes  one  limita- 
tion from  knowledge  as  it  exists  in  the  stage  of  per- 
ception: the  limitation  to  the  present.  The  world  of 
strict  perception  has  no  past  nor  future.  Perception 
is  narrowly  confined  to  what  is  immediately  before  it. 
What  has  existed  and  wdiat  may  exist  it  has  nothing  to 
do  with.  Memory  extends  the  range  of  knowledge 
beyond  the  present.  The  world  of  knowledge  as  it 
exists  for  memory'is  a world  of  events  which  have  hap- 
pened, of  things  which  have  existed.  In  short,  while 
the  characteristic  of  perception  is  space  relations,  that 
of  memory  is  time  relations.  Knowledge,  however,  is 
still  limited  to  individual  things  or  events  which  have 
had  an  existence  in  some  particular  place,  and  at  some 
particular  time. 

I.  General  Problem  of  Memory. — The  fact  which 
the  psychologist  has  to  account  for  is  how  our  knowl- 
edge can  be  extended  beyond  the  realm  of  the  imme- 
diate present  to  take  in  that  no  longer  existing,  namely, 
the  past.  We  begin  by  stating  hbw  the  problem  can- 
not be  solved:  (1)  It  cannot  be  solved  by  the  mere 
fact  that  we  have  had  past  experiences  which  are  called 
into  the  light  of  consciousness  when  wanted ; even  if 


MEMORY. 


177 


there  is  added  to  this  supposition  (2)  the  laws  of  asso- 
ciation of  ideas. 

1.  The  case  is  analogous  to  that  of  perception.  Just 
as  we  found  that  knowledge  of  present  existent  ob- 
jects cannot  be  explained  from  the  mere  fact  of  their 
existence,  but  that  knowledge  of  them  requires  a con- 
structive activity  of  mind,  so  the  knowledge  of  ob- 
jects existent  in  the  past  cannot  be  explained  from 
the  mere  fact  that  we  have  once  had  experience  of 
them.  Memory  is  not  a passive  process  in  which  past 
experiences  thrust  themselves  upon  the  mind,  any  more 
than  perception  is  one  where  present  experiences  im- 
press themselves.  It  is  a process  of  construction.  In 
fact  it  involves  more  of  constructive  activity  than 
perception.  In  perception  the  objects,  at  all  events, 
do  exist  before  the  perception  construes  them.  In 
memory  they  do  not.  Our  past  experiences  are  gone 
just  as  much  as  the  time  in  which  they  occurred. 
They  have  no  existence  until  the  mind  reconstructs 
them. 

Objects  of  Memory  are  wholly  Ideal. — Their  exist- 
ence is  wholly  mental.  Thus  the  object  of  memory 
does  not  exist  as  a thing  in  space,  but  only  as  a mental 
image.  The  table  which  I perceive  is  one  really  there 
in  space.  The  table  which  I remember  exists  only  in 
the  form  of  an  image  in  my  mind.  The  perceived 
table  is  solid  and  resists.  The  remembered  table  has 
no  physical  properties  of  this  kind.  The  memory  of 
the  color  red  is  not  itself  red,  nor  is  the  memory  of  the 
odor  of  a rose  fragrant.  It  is  evident,  accordingly, 
that  in  memory  the  idealizing  activity  which  is  in- 
volved in  all  knowledge  is  carried  a point  further  than 
it  is  in  perception.  The  experiences  with  which  mem- 
8* 


178 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


orj  deals  a re,  per  se,  wholly  ideal.  They  exist  only  as 
results  of  the  constructive  activity  of  intelligence. 

Misleading  Metaphors. — This  fact  makes  many  met- 
aphors regarding  memory  entirely  misleading.  For 
example:  Memory  is  compared  to  a scar  left  by  a 
cut.  Every  experience,  that  is,  is  thought  to  leave 
some  permanent  trace  of  itself  on  the  mind,  and  the 
mere  presence  of  this  trace  at  any  time  is  thought  to 
constitute  memory.  But  the  characteristic  of  the  scar 
is  that  it  is  really  present;  it  still  exists  as  a thing, 
but  has  no  ideal  existence ; that  is,  no  conscious  exist- 
ence for  itself.  The  remembered  experience,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  real  existence  no  longer.  The  knife 
which  made  the  cut  does  not  exist  in  memory  as  it 
does  in  perception,  as  a thing  really  there.  It  may  still 
exist,  but  that  means  that  it  could  he  perceived ; not 
that  it  is  remembered.  Again,  the  remembered  expe- 
rience has  an  ideal  existence.  It  exists  for  itself  in 
consciousness.  The  essential  characteristic  of  memory 
is  thus  seen  to  be  the  ideal  presence  of  an  object  or 
event  no  longer  really  present ; and  the  mere  fact  that 
it  was  once  really  present  is  of  no  avail  to  account  for 
its  new  ideal  presence,  though,  of  course,  the  latter 
could  not  occur  had  it  not  been  for  the  former. 

2.  While  this  is  generally  admitted,  it  is  often 
thought  that  the  laws  of  the  association  of  ideas,  con- 
joined with  the  past  experience,  are  enough  to  account 
for  the  facts  of  memory.  We  have  had  experiences; 
these  exist  stored  up,  in  some  unexplained  way,  in  the 
mind,  and  when  some  experience  occurs  which  is  like 
some  one  of  these,  or  has  been  previously  contiguous 
with  it  in  time  or  space,  it  calls  this  other  up,  and  that 
constitutes  memory.  This,  at  most,  solves  but  one 


MEMORY. 


179 


half  the  problem.  The  association  of  ideas  only  ac- 
counts for  the  presence  of  the  object  or  event.  The 
other  half  is  the  reference  of  its  present  image  to  some 
past  reality.  In  memory  we  7'e-cognize  its  presence ; i.  e., 
we  know  that  it  has  been  a previous  element  of  our  ex- 
perience. We  place  the  image  in  the  train  of  our  past 
experiences,  we  give  it  some  temporal  relation ; we 
refer  it  to  some  real  object  once  perceived.  Ho  idea, 
however  it  comes  into  the  mind,  certifies  of  itself  that 
it  has  ever  been  experienced  before,  or  under  what  cir- 
cumstances it  has  been  experienced.  The  mind  must 
actively  take  hold  of  the  idea  and  project  it  into  time, 
just  as  in  perceiving  it  takes  hold  of  the  sensation  and 
projects  it  into  space.  Were  it  not  for  this  projecting 
activity  of  the  mind  all  would  be  a fleeting  present ; the 
range  of  intelligence  would  not  extend  into  a past  world. 

3.  Positive  Solution  of  Problems. — Memory,  there- 
fore, like  perception,  is  an  active  construction  by  the 
mind  of  certain  data.  It  differs  from  perception  only 
in  the  fact  that  the  interpreting  process  which  is  in- 
volved in  both  is  carried  in  memory  a stage  further. 
In  perception  the  sensation  is  interpreted  only  as  the 
sign  of  something  present,  which  could  be  experienced 
by  actually  bringing  all  the  senses  into  relation  with  it. 
In  memory  it  is  interpreted  as  the  sign  of  some  expe- 
rience which  we  once  had,  and  which  we  might  have 
again,  could  we  accurately  reproduce  all  its  conditions. 
If  I perceive  the  President  of  the  United  States,  cer- 
tain visual  sensations  represent  to  me  all  the  sensations 
which  my  other  senses  could  present  to  me,  and  also 
symbolize  certain  past  experiences  which  I have  had, 
which  enable  me  to  interpret  the  visual  sensations  as  a 
man,  and  as  this  particular  man.  If  I remember  this 


ISO 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


perception,  certain  ideas  now  present  serve  as  data  (as 
the  sensations  do  in  the  perception),  and  represent  to 
me,  not  the  experiences  which  I could  now  have  by 
trying,  but  the  experiences  which  I once  had. 

Memory  as  Involved  in  Perception. — Memory  is  thus 
a natural  outgrowth  of  perception.  Past  experiences 
are  really  involved  in  perception,  and  memory  does 
nothing  more  than  evolve  them,  and  give  them  a dis- 
tinct place  in  consciousness.  We  perceive  only  by 
bringing  past  experiences  to  bear  upon  the  present,  so 
as  to  interpret  it;  but  in  perception  these  past  experi- 
ences are  wholly  absorbed  or  lost  in  the  present.  When 
we  see  a man  we  do  not  recognize  that  there  are  in- 
volved in  this  perception  all  the  other  men  which  we 
have  seen,  and  that  it  is  only  through  the  ideal  pres- 
ence of  these  experiences  in  the  present  data  that  the 
latter  signify  to  us  a man.  But  such  is  the  fact.  What 
memory  does  is  (1)  simply  to  disengage  some  one  of 
these  experiences  from  its  absorption  in  the  perception, 
giving  it  an  independent  ideal  existence;  (2)  at  the 
same  time  interpreting  it  in  such  a way  that  it  stands 
for  or  symbolizes  certain  relations  of  time,  and  (3)  gets 
its  place  in  the  course  of  experience,  or  in  the  train  of 
ideas  taken  as  a whole. 

II.  Elements  of  Problem  of  Memory. — It  is  thus  ev- 
ident that  there  are  three  elements  in  the  problem  of 
memory,  as  there  are  in  the  problem  of  perception. 
The  first  (1)  corresponds  to  the  existence  of  particular 
objects,  but  takes  the  form  of  the  presence  in  the  mind 
of  the  image  or  idea — an  ideal  presence,  instead  of  an 
actual  one ; the  second  (2)  is  the  reference  of  this  im- 
age to  some  past  reality,  or  its  projection  in  time, 
corresponding  to  the  spatial  relations  of  perception ; 


MEMORY. 


181 


while,  corresponding  to  the  distinction  between  self 
and  not-self,  we  have  (3)  the  distinction  between  the 
present  self  and  the  course  of  experience,  or  train  of 
ideas,  taken  as  a whole.  That  is,  just  as  the  spatial 
world,  the  world  of  perceptual  experience,  appears  set 
over  against  the  self,  so  the  temporal  world,  the  world 
of  our  experiences  as  presented  in  memory,  is  distin- 
guished from  the  present  self,  as  existing  at  every 
point  of  time,  or  permanently. 

1.  The  Presence  of  the  Memory  Image  in  the  Mind. 
—The  laws  of  association  evidently  account  for  this. 
Nothing  is  ever  remembered  which  does  not  have 
some  point  of  association  with  what  is  actually  present 
in  the  mind.  However  far  the  train  of  images  may 
go,  therefore,  it  will  always  be  found  ultimately  to  rest 
upon  some  perception.  This  perception,  getting  its 
meaning  through  its  idealization,  on  the  basis  of  past 
experience,  involves,  ideally , these  past  experiences 
within  itself.  There  are  involved  in  my  perception,  for 
example,  of  this  book  all  the  perceptions  which  I have 
had  of  similar  books,  and  of  objects  which  have  been 
contiguous  to  these  formerly  perceived  books.  For  the 
independent  existence  of  a memory-image  it  is  only 
necessary  that  some  one  of  these  involved  former  per- 
ceptions be  disengaged  or  dissociated. 

Process  of  Disengagement. — This  may  occur  in  two 
ways,  one  of  which  was  mentioned  (page  104)  when 
studying  successive  association.  It  is  quite  probable 
that  some  of  the  factors  involved  in  the  former  per- 
ception of  a book  are  wholly  incongruous  with  those 
involved  in  the  present  perception.  Its  size,  its  color, 
its  subject-matter,  above  all,  its  original  spatially  con- 
tiguous surroundings  are  so  different  from  those  of  the 


182 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


present  perception  that  only  with  the  greatest  difficulty 
can  it  lose  its  identity  in  being  absorbed  by  the  present 
perception  ; while  the  similarity  of  nature  of  both  will 
necessitate  its  coming  into  consciousness  along  with  this 
perception. 

Result  an  Image. — The  result  of  this  incongruity  is 
its  disengagement  from  the  perception,  and  consequent 
existence  as  an  image  or  idea.  Were  it  absorbed  in 
the  perception,  it  would  be  referred  to  some  present 
thing,  and  hence  have  no  more  existence  ideally,  i.  e ., 
as  a mental  image.  The  very  fact  that  it  is  not  thus 
referred  to  the  real  object  makes  it  manifest  itself 
as  it  exists,  i.  e.,  in  the  mind  alone,  or  as  an  image. 
It  follows,  from  what  has  been  said,  that  every  per- 
ception will  tend  to  call  up  an  indefinite  number  of 
images,  as  many  as  there  have  been  experiences  of  a 
similar  nature  before,  which  are  incompatible  in  some 
particular.  This  is  undoubtedly  the  case.  Besides  the 
image  which  comes  into  distinct  consciousness,  careful 
introspection  will  always  reveal  a large  number  of  nas- 
cent or  rising  images,  which  are  only  suppressed  by 
the  attention  paid  to  some  one  selected.  This  intro- 
duces us  to  the  second  way  in  which  the  image  is  given 
an  ideal  existence,  or  separated  from  its  absorption  in 
the  perception. 

Recollection. — It  is  not  always  left  to  the  laws  of 
association,  acting  in  the  way  just  described,  to  pro- 
duce the  image.  The  mind  may  have  an  especial  in- 
terest in  the  appearance  of  one  idea  over  another,  and 
voluntarily  direct  itself  to  securing  its  appearance.  In 
short,  the  attentive  activities  are  concerned  with  mem- 
ory as  well  as  the  associative.  For  example,  suppose 
that  I remember  vaguely  having  obtained  a certain 


MEMORY. 


183 


idea  upon  psychology  yesterday,  and  I wish  to  recall  it 
definitely.  It  is  not  enough  to  let  the  laws  of  associa- 
tion passively  bring  it  back,  for  they  are  as  likely,  by 
themselves,  to  bring  up  anything  else.  Neither  is  it 
possible  to  direct  the  will  immediately  upon  it,  and 
bring  it  forth ; for  just  what  it  is  the  mind  does  not 
know.  So  the  emphasis  is  laid  upon  those  elements 
which  are  known  to  be  associated  with  it,  and  the  asso- 
ative  lines,  having  been  led  in  this  direction,  finally  call 
it  up  of  themselves. 

To  take  a simpler  case,  suppose  I wish  to  recall  the 
name  of  a man  I met  yesterday.  I cannot  call  it  up 
by  an  immediate  act  of  the  will,  for  what  it  is  I do  not 
know.  The  associative  activity,  if  left  to  itself,  might 
expend  itself  in  some  other  channel;  so  what  I do  is 
to  fix  my  attention  on  all  circumstances  connected  with 
the  man,  the  place  where  I saw  him,  the  man  who  in- 
troduced him,  etc. ; and  thus,  intensifying  these  ele- 
ments, I increase  their  associative  power  at  the  expense 
of  others,  until,  by  their  own  action,  they  call  up  the 
name  desired.  This  direction  of  the  mechanical  action 
of  association  into  some  given  channel,  to  make  it  work 
towards  a desired  end,  is  called  recollection.  It  is  evi- 
dently a form  of  memory  in  which  attentive  activi- 
ties are  involved  as  well  as  associative.  The  presence 
of  the  latter  alone  results  in  reverie,  day-dreaming,  etc. 
One  of  the  principal  characteristics  of  dreams,  indeed, 
is  that  attention  is  in  abeyance,  and  the  train  of  ideas 
is  governed  by  the  mechanical  principles  of  association 
alone.  It  will  also  be  noticed  that  the  associative  ac- 
tivities in  memory  are  successive , while  in  perception 
they  are  simultaneous  fusion  and  assimilation. 

2.  The  Element  of  Time  Relation.  — But  no  true 


184 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


memory  exists  until  this  image,  which  has,  by  its  dis- 
engagement, got  independent  existence,  is  projected 
in  time ; that  is,  referred  to  some  point  in  past  expe- 
rience. Time  relations  may  be  reduced  to  two— suc- 
cession and  duration,  change  and  extent.  There  is  no 
reason  to  suppose  that,  at  first,  the  child  has  any  idea 
of  succession  or  duration  in  time,  any  more  than  he  has 
of  direction  in  space,  lie  can  have  no  idea  of  it  until 
he  connects  successive  experiences  with  each  other,  and 
regards  them  as  members  of  a whole.  It  is,  of  course, 
a fact  that  every  mental  state  occupies  a certain  time; 
comes  after  another,  and  precedes  a third ; but  this 
does  not  constitute  the  recognition  of  succession.  The 
recognition  of  succession  implies  not  only  the  coursing 
of  one  idea  after  another,  but  the  recognition  of  the 
relation  of  precedence  and  consequence,  before  and  af- 
ter. It  is  not  enough  that  there  be  change  in  the  ideas. 
There  must  also  be  connection.  The  past  idea  and  the 
present  idea  must  be  held  together  before  the  mind  in 
spite  of  their  succession  ; otherwise  the  succession  may 
exist,  but  it  will  not  be  known.  The  recognition  of 
succession  requires  a permanent  relating  activity  of 
the  mind  itself. 

Hearing  and  Time  Perception. — The  general  nature 
of  the  perception  of  time  may  be  best  brought  out  by 
considering  its  perception  through  the  sense  of  hearing, 
as  typical  of  the  whole  process.  As  the  visual  sensations 
are  fitted,  by  their  coexistent  character  and  by  their 
association  with  simultaneous  muscular  sensations,  to 
become  symbols  of  space  relations,  so  auditory  sensa- 
tions, by  virtue  of  their  successive  character  and  their 
association  with  successive  muscular  sensations,  are  fit- 
ted to  serve  as  signs  of  temporal  relations.  One  bun- 


MEMORY. 


185 


dred  and  thirty-two  beats  per  second  may  be  recognized 
as  distinct  to  a well-trained  ear,  while  upon  the  eye  forty 
consecutive  impressions  seem  as  one  continuous  light. 
This  characteristic  of  hearing  forms  the  basis  of  very 
fine  time  discriminations;  but  it  is  only  the  basis.  For 
the  recognition  of  such  differences  are  requisite  the 
combination  and  mutual  reference  of  tone  sensations 
in  the  peculiar  way  known  as  rhythm. 

Fundamental  Character  of  Rhythm. — The  impor- 
tance of  rhythm  in  the  psychical  life  can  hardly  be 
overestimated.  It  plays  the  same  part  there  that  peri- 
odicity does  in  the  physical  universe.  It  is  a native 
form  under  which  the  soul  tends  to  apperceive  all  with 
which  it  comes  in  contact.  And  it  is  also  a form  in 
which  it  tends  to  express  its  own  most  intimate  states. 
It  is  the  language  of  the  manifestation  of  emotion. 
All  the  early  traditions  of  the  race  are  expressed  by 
its  means.  Poetry  is  everywhere  an  earlier  and  more 
natural  mode  of  expression  than  prose.  Prose  still  re- 
tains traces  of  its  origin;  there  has  been  intellectual 
rhythm  substituted  for  sensuous.  The  sentence  has  its 
beginning,  middle,  and  end.  It  is  divided  b<y  semi- 
colons and  commas.  Its  parts  are  balanced  and  anti- 
thetical. Each  part  is  arranged  so  as  at  once  to  continue 
the  thought  of  some  other,  and  to  make  a transition 
from  it.  In  music,  rhythm  gave  rise  to  the  earliest 
and  most  wddely  diffused  of  the  arts,  while  the  accom- 
panying dancing  was  one  of  the  earliest  modes  of 
physical  activity,  and  may,  in  some  way,  be  considered 
more  natural  than  walking,  which  is,  after  all,  but  a 
more  regular  dance. 

Nature  of  Rhythm.  — Considered  very  generally, 
rhythm  is  simply  the  tendency  of  the  mind  every- 


186 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


where  to  reduce  variety  to  unity,  or  break  up  unity  into 
variety.  In  its  broadest  sense,  rhythm  is  identical  with 
the  apperceiving  activity  of  the  mind.  If  we  listen  to 
regular  and  even  beats,  like  those  of  a pendulum  or  of 
an  engine,  we  immediately  emphasize  some  one  and 
slur  another,  so  as  to  introduce  rhythm.  The  clock 
no  longer  says  tick,  tick,  but  tick,  tack.  The  strokes 
of  the  engine  go  through  a regular  alternation  of  weak 
and  strong.  Variety  is  introduced  by  the  mind  into 
the  monoton}7.  On  the  other  hand,  if  we  listen  to  the 
ticking  of  two  clocks,  we  are  not  content  to  take  the 
irregular  combination  of  beats  as  they  come,  but  we 
endeavor  to  combine  them  into  some  regular  system, 
to  introduce  rhythm  into  them.  We  endeavor  to  re- 
duce their  variety  to  some  underlying  unity.  These 
simple  illustrations  serve  as  types  of  the  character  of 
intelligence  as  universally  manifested.  It  always  com- 
bines in  this  rhythmical  way. 

Relation  of  Rhythm  to  Time. — It  is  now  necessary 
to  see  how  this  introduction  of  rhythm  facilitates  time 
perception  through  hearing.  Rhythm  may  here  be 
defined  as  change  in  the  intensity  of  sound  at  regular  in- 
tervals. A sound  of  the  same  quality  may  be  now  strong- 
er, now  weaker;  and  if  these  risings  and  fallings  of 
stress  occur  at  regular  periods  we  have  rhythm.  It  is 
evident  that  this  is  the  very  means  of  the  recognition 
of  succession.  If  there  were  absolutely  no  regularity 
in  the  sounds  they  would  be  wholly  disconnected  ; each 
sound  would  be  an  independent  existence,  and  would 
not  carry  the  mind  beyond  itself.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  sound  were  absolutely  continuous,  it  would  give 
us  no  ground  whatever  for  distinguishing  time  intervals. 
The  same  thing  without  difference  would  be  constantly 


MEMORY. 


187 


present.  But  in  rhythm  every  sound  points,  by  its  very 
structure,  both  to  the  past  and  future.  Every  part  of 
the  sound  is  at  once  a continuation  of  the  old  sound, 
thus  combining  the  two,  and  a transition  from  it,  thus 
separating  them.  The  accented  portion,  being  a repe- 
tition of  the  former  stress,  refers  itself  immediately  to 
it,  and  thus  supplies  the  element  of  permanence.  But 
alternations  of  stress  are  also  necessary  for  rhythm,  and 
thus  there  is  supplied  the  element  of  change.  Rhythm, 
accordingly,  meets  the  requirement  of  perception  of 
succession  in  time  ; permanence  amid  change. 

Rhythm  not  Confined  to  Art. — The  importance  of 
rhythm  is  most  plainly  seen  in  music  and  poetry,  whose 
very  existence  depends  so  largely  upon  the  organic  con- 
nection of  elements  into  a whole  through  this  reference 
of  one  element  to  every  other  by  the  medium  of  time. 
The  connection  of  successive  parts  into  a whole  is  in- 
creased by  various  other  contrivances — melody  and  ton- 
icity in  music  ; rhyme  and  assonance  in  poetry  ; in  both, 
by  the  fact  that  measures  are  united  into  periods,  etc. 
Each  of  these  carries  the  mind  backwards  and  for- 
wards at  once  ; and  this,  amid  the  succession,  preserves 
the  idea  that  the  successive  parts  are  members  of  one 
whole.  It  is  only  because  of  this  that  time  relations 
are  perceived.  But  the  process  is  not  confined  to  art. 
Time  itself  is  divided  into  centuries;  centuries  into 
years;  years  into  weeks,  days,  hours,  minutes,  seconds, 
etc.  Each  of  these  divisions  is  an  artificial,  yet  natural, 
result  of  the  tendency  of  the  mind  towards  rhythm. 
"Were  it  not  for  these  rhythmical  intervals  our  percep- 
tion of  time  would  be  exceedingly  inaccurate  and  indefi- 
nite. Through  these  beats,  into  which  we  instinctively  di- 
vide time,  any  event  may  he  accurately  placed  and  dated. 


188 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Origin  of  Time  Perception. — Time  will  be  perceived, 
accordingly,  when  some  event  is  recognized  as  being 
changed  from  some  previous  event,  and  still  connected 
with  it.  The  child,  perhaps,  will  first  perceive  succes- 
sion in  connection  with  taking  food.  Hunger  and  sat- 
isfaction are  the  two  most  intense  states  of  conscious- 
ness, and  they  are  very  intimately  connected  together. 
Thejr  form  the  arsis  and  thesis  of  the  life  of  the  child. 
They  are  exceedingly  different  from  each  other,  and 
yet  one  succeeds  the  other.  They  may,  accordingly, 
form  the  rudiments  of  the  perception  of  succession  and 
duration.  The  very  tendency  of  the  child,  while  hun- 
gry, to  recall  his  previous  satisfaction,  and  to  antici- 
pate the  coming  one,  is  the  beginning  of  the  recogni- 
tion of  time.  It  grows  more  definite  and  accurate  just 
in  the  degree  in  which  all  experiences  are  related  to 
each  other  as  members  of  one  whole.  Every  time 
any  event  of  psychical  life  is  connected  with  and  re- 
ferred to  some  other,  a time  relation  is  discriminated. 

Growth  of  Time  Perception. — It  was  remarked,  un- 
der space  perception,  that  the  starting-point  is  the  po- 
sition of  the  body,  and  that  the  perception  of  any  spa- 
tial position  depends  upon  the  ability  to  place  the  object 
definitely  with  reference  to  other  objects.  An  isolated 
object  can  hardly  be  placed  at  all.  The  same  is  true 
of  the  projection  of  ideas  in  time.  The  mental  image 
is  always  referred  from  the  present  point  of  psychical 
life,  and  with  reference  to  other  experiences.  When 
we  are  unable  to  refer  an  image  definitely  to  any  time, 
it  simply  means  that  we  cannot  place  it  with  reference 
to  other  experiences.  We  know  that  it  has  come  in 
our  past  experiences,  but  where  it  came  we  do  not  know. 
Ability  to  put  events  in  their  proper  time  relation  de* 


MEMORY. 


189 


pends,  accordingly,  upon  ability  to  connect  our  various 
experiences  with  each  other.  Events  are  always  dated 
relatively  to  other  events ; never  absolutely.  And, 
apart  from  this  unification  of  events  as  members  of 
one  series,  there  is,  accordingly,  no  reference  of  images 
to  any  given  time,  and  hence,  strictly  speaking,  no 
memory. 

3.  Memory  as  Involving  Distinction  of  Train  of 
Ideas  from  Permanent  Self. — As  perception  involved 
the  distinction  of  self  and  not-self,  that  is,  the  activity 
of  the  mind  in  taking  its  sensations  and  objectifying 
them  by  setting  them  over  as  unified  objects  against 
itself,  so  memory  involves  the  distinction  of  self,  as 
permanent,  from  the  ever-changing  course  of  its  expe- 
riences. In  memory  the  activity  of  the  mind  takes  its 
ideas  and  combines  them  into  a connected  whole,  stand- 
ing in  relations  of  time  to  each  other,  and  sets  these 
over  against  itself  in  such  a way  that  the  latter  is  re- 
garded as  always  present,  while  the  former  are  past. 
Memory  involves,  therefore,  the  distinguishing  activity 
of  mind.  Were  it  not  for  this  distinction,  if  the  mind 
could  not  take  its  ideas  and  project  them  always  from 
itself  and  thus  regard  them  as  not  members  of  its  pres- 
ent self,  no  such  thing  as  memory  would  exist. 

Memory  requires  a now  and  a then — the  recognized 
difference  between  past  and  present ; and  this  is  not  pos- 
sible without  the  recognition  of  the  difference  between 
a self  which  is  present  both  now  and  then,  permanently 
present,  and  the  idea  which  changes,  and  consequently 
was  then , but  is  not  now.  Memory  exists,  accordingly, 
only  where  there  is  a permanent  self  amid  changing 
experiences.  Were  there  changing  experiences  alone 
there  would  be  succession,  but  no  possibility  of  the 


190 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


recognition  of  succession  ; hence  no  distinction  between 
past  and  present,  and  no  memory.  Were  there  only  a 
permanent  self  all  would  be  forever  present,  and  hence 
no  memory. 

Identifying  Activity  in  Memory. — Thus  it  is  evi- 
dent that  memory  implies  the  uniting,  identifying  ac- 
tivity of  mind,  as  well  as  its  discriminating,  separating 
activity.  The  self  recognizes  this  experience  as  similar 
with,  or  contiguous  to,  some  previous  experience. 
This  recognition  implies,  of  course,  their  conscious 
identification.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  saying  that 
memory  involves  a permanent  self;  it  is  the  activity 
of  the  self  in  uniting  the  various  elements  of  its  expe- 
rience, and  making  a connected  whole  of  them.  Mem- 
ory carries,  therefore,  the  identifying  activity  of  mind 
one  step  further  than  perception  does.  The  perceived 
world  appears  to  be  a world  wholly  distinct  from  the 
self ; the  world  of  memory  is  recognized  as  a world 
which  the  self  has  once  experienced.  It  is  still  regard- 
ed, however,  as  separate  from  the  present  self.  It  is 
yet  an  incomplete  stage  of  knowledge. 

Time  as  Involving  Unity  and  Difference. — The  re- 
lations of  time,  which  we  have  seen  to  be  characteristic 
of  memory,  repeat  the  evidence  of  the  existence  of  both 
the  identifying  and  the  discriminating  activities  of  in- 
telligence. All  times  are  regarded  as  constituting  one 
time;  any  point  of  time  has  no  existence,  except  as  in 
relations  of  before  and  after  to  other  points.  It  exists 
only  by  virtue  of  its  relations  to  them.  It  is  the  con- 
tinuing of  the  previous  time  and  the  passing  into  the 
next  time.  Time,  in  short,  is  one  or  continuous.  But 
we  must  recognize,  also,  that  time  is  discrete.  Each 
point  of  time  is  outside  of,  external  to,  every  other 


MEMORY. 


191 


point.  The  essential  trait  of  any  given  period  of 
time  is,  in  fact,  that  it  is  not  any  other  period.  We 
discriminate  events  as  particular  by  referring  them  to 
some  time,  as  we  do  objects  by  referring  them  to  some 
place.  Time  as  a whole  appears,  also,  external  to,  and 
unconnected  with,  the  self.  The  self  in  memory  ap- 
pears identical  with  itself  and  permanent,  while  time 
is  always  changing.  But  that  time  has  less  of  the  ele- 
ment of  externality  than  space  is  evident  from  the  fact 
that  the  mind  regards  its  own  experiences  as  happening 
in  time,  while  it  never  thinks  of  supposing  that  they 
occur  in  space.  Time  presupposes,  in  fact,  a certain 
degree  of  internality,  or  intimate  connection  with  self. 


Hamilton  (op.  cit.),  lect.  xxx. ; Morell  (op.  cil .),  pp.  1GG-204 ; Porter  (op.  cit.), 
pp.  248-268,  and  300-324 ; Spencer  (op.  cil.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  434-453  ; Carpenter 
(op.  cit.),  chap.  x. ; Caklervvood,  “Relations  of  Mind  and  Brain,”  chap.  ix. ; 
Maudsley  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  512  ff. ; Butler,  “Unconscious  Memory  ” (compare 
relevant  portions  of  Yon  Hartmann’s  “ Philosophy  of  Unconscious”)  ; Galton, 
Mind,  voh  v.,  p.  301,  and  “Human  Faculty  Ribot,  “Diseases  of  Memory 
Ulrici  (op.  cit.'),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  207-231 ; George  (op.  cit.),  pp.  281-321 ; Erdmann, 
“ Psychologische  Briefe,”  chap,  xvi.;  Horwicz  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  2G6-314; 
Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  318-326.  See  also  monographs  by  Autenrieth, 
Hering,  Hensen,  and  Ebbinghaus,  “Ueber  das  Gedachtniss.” 

Concerning  the  development  of  time  relations,  see  Romanes,  “ Conscious- 
ness of  Time,”  Mind,  vol.  iii.,  p.  297 ; Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  207-215; 
Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  12-36;  Sigwart,  “Logik,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  77-83  ; 
Horwicz  (op.  cit.),  vol. !.,  pp.  129-143 ; Striimpell  (op.  cit.),  pp.  207-218 ; Wundt, 
vol.  ii.,  pp.  34-60  (tone  perception) ; and  for  experimental  researches,  see 
Mind  for  Jan.,  1886,  by  Hall;  “ I’hilosophische  Studien,”  vol.  i.,  p.  78;  vol. 
ii.,  pp.  37  and  546,  by  Kollert,  Estel,  and  Mehner,  and  Vierordt,  “Zeitsinn.” 

For  the  pedagogy  of  memory,  see  Thring  (op.  cit.),  pp.  177-186 ; Perez 
(op.  cit.),  pp.  121-130 ; Ziller  (op.  cit.),  p.  314  ff. ; Beneke  (op.  cit.),  pp.  91-99; 
Schnell,  “Der  Lernact;”  Dorpfeld,  “ Beitrage  zur  padagogischen  Psycholo- 
gy,” vol.  i. ; Schuhmann,  “ Kleinere  Schriften,”  vol.  ii.,  p.  69  ff. ; Joly,  “ No- 
tions de  Pedagogie,”  pp.  62-79;  Miguel,  “Lehre  vom  Gedachtniss;”  Huber, 
“Das  Gedachtniss,”  and  Fortlage,  “Acht  psychologische  Vortrage.” 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IMAGINATION. 

Nature  of  Imagination. — Imagination  may  be  de- 
fined as  that  operation  of  the  intellect  which  embodies 
an  idea  in  a particular  form  or  image.  From  this 
definition  we  discover  both  its  resemblance  to  the  two 
previous  operations  of  the  intellect  and  its  differences 
from  them.  It  is  like  them  in  that  its  product  is  al- 
ways particular  ; it  is  an  idea  of  this  or  that  object, 
person,  event.  It  is  one  distinct  existence.  It  is  un- 
like them  in  that  this  particular  mental  existence  is  not 
necessarily  referred  to  some  one  place  or  time  as  exist- 
ing there.  It  is,  in  short,  an  idea ; not  an  object  or 
event.  It  is,  however,  an  idea  of  some  object  or  event. 
Othello,  as  a product  of  the  imagination  of  Shakespeare, 
is  like  Julius  Caesar  as  an  object  of  perception  or  mem- 
ory, in  that  he  is  one  particular  individual,  with  per- 
sonal traits  and  acts.  He  is  unlike  Caesar  in  that  the 
idea  is  not  referred  to  some  existence  in  space  or  time. 
Othello  is,  indeed,  given  a local  and  temporal  habita- 
tion, but  it  is  recognized  that  this  is  done  purely  from 
motives  of  the  mind  itself,  and  not  from  constraint  of 
external  fact. 

Imagination  Involved  in  Perception. — The  first  step 
towards  explaining  how  the  intellect  advances  beyond 
its  interpretation  of  a sensation  as  referred  to  a thing 
or  event,  to  its  interpretation  as  ideal,  or  an  image,  is 
to  recall  that  imagination  is  involved  in  perception. 


IMAGINATION. 


193 


In  the  perception  of  an  object,  as  an  apple,  there  are 
actually  present,  it  will  be  remembered,  only  a few 
sensations.  All  the  rest  of  the  perception  is  supplied 
by  the  mind.  The  mind  supplies  sensations  coming 
from  other  senses  besides  those  in  use ; it  extends  and 
supplements  them ; it  adds  the  emphasis  of  its  atten- 
tion, and  the  comment  of  its  emotions;  it  interprets 
them.  How  all  this  supplied  material  may  fairly  be 
said  to  be  the  work  of  the  imagination.  The  mind 
idealizes — that  is,  fills  in  with  its  own  images — the  vac- 
uous and  chaotic  sensations  present. 

Imagination  as  Involved  in  Memory.  — In  percep- 
tion these  images  are  implicitly  present,  but  they  are 
not  recognized.  They  are  swallowed  up  in  the  prod- 
uct, so  that  the  object  of  perception  appears  to  be  a 
mere  thing,  which  exists  without  any  ideal  connections. 
In  memory  some  of  the  images — those  supplied  from 
previous  experiences — are  set  free  from  this  absorption, 
and  given  an  independent  existence.  The  memory  of 
Niagara  Falls  is  very  different  from  its  perception. 
The  latter  is  a thing  which  is  really  there ; the  former 
is  an  idea  in  the  mind.  Yet,  even  in  this  case,  the  idea 
is  not  considered  as  ideal,  but  is  referred  to  an  object 
in  existence.  The  image  has  not  yet  received  an  inde- 
pendent, free  existence,  severed  from  connection  with 
some  facts  actually  existing,  or  some  event  which  has 
really  occurred.  The  presence  of  imagination  is  still 
implied  rather  than  explicit.  Yet  it  is  implied  so  com- 
pletely that  memory  is  often  treated  as  one  mode  of 
imagination. 

The  Development  of  Imagination. — Imagination,  as 
the  recognition  of  an  idea  in  a concrete  form,  will  ex- 
ist just  as  soon  as  the  ideal  element  involved  in  both 
' 9 


194 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


perception  and  memory  is  freed  from  its  reference  to 
some  existence,  and  treated  freely ; that  is,  as  an  im- 
age, not  as  tied  down  to  some  thing  or  event.  This  is  no 
new  operation  ; it  is  only  the  more  complete  develop- 
ment of  one  already  at  work.  It  is  bringing  into  con- 
scionsness  what  was  previously  in  unconsciousness. 
The  factors  which  are  engaged  in  this  development 
are,  especially,  dissociation  and  attention,  while  associ- 
ation reigns  especially  in  perception  and  memory.  Dis- 
sociation disengages  the  image,  and  prepares  it  for  free 
recombination  ; attention  transforms  into  novel  and  un- 
experienced products. 

Dissociation. — The  first  step  of  dissociation  is  to  rec- 
ognize that  an  image  may  have  an  ideal  existence,  and 
need  not  be  referred  to  an  actual  thing.  Children  are 
often  spoken  of  as  possessed  of  great  imagination,  when 
the  fact  really  is  that  they  have  not  learned  as  yet  to 
make  this  distinction,  and  consequently  every  idea  or 
image  which  occurs  to  them  is  taken  for  reality.  Im- 
agination proper  appears  only  with  the  ability  to  dis- 
tinguish between  the  ideal  and  the  real.  This  distinc- 
tion originates  largely  through  the  dissociation  of  some 
element  from  its  varying  concomitants,  according  to 
the  process  already  treated  (page  104).  It  is  found 
that  the  same  idea,  say  of  a man,  occurs  under  so  many 
different  circumstances,  that  it  is  freed  from  its  detail 
of  space  and  time  circumstances,  and  thus  gets  an  inde- 
pendent and  ideal  existence. 

Mechanical  Imagination. — Along  with  this  isolation 
of  various  elements  of  our  perception  goes  a recombi- 
nation of  them.  A tree  is  separated  from  its  position 
along  with  others,  and  is  set  in  lonely  grandeur  on  a 
mountain.  A house  is  imagined  greatly  enlarged  in 


IMAGINATION. 


195 


size,  and  filled  with  all  beautiful  objects.  It  is  made  a 
palace  of  things  that  delight.  It  is  this  double  process 
of  separating  and  adding  that  constitutes  the  lowest 
stage  of  imagination.  It  deals  with  real  material — 
things  and  events  previously  experienced— and  con- 
fines its  activity  to  forming  abstractions,  and  produc- 
ing combinations  not  experienced.  Only  the  form  is 
new.  Imagination  of  this  sort,  proceeding  for  the 
most  part  by  the  laws  of  association  and  dissociation, 
may  be  called  mechanical  imagination. 

Fancy. — The  next  higher  stage  is  known  as  fancy, 
or  fantasy.  Here  the  formation  and  connection  of 
images  is  controlled  by  an  exceedingly  vivacious  and 
receptive  emotional  disposition.  The  web  of  fancy 
throws  itself  about  all  things,  and  connects  them  to- 
gether, through  the  medium  of  feeling.  It  is  charac- 
terized by  the  predominance  of  similes,  of  metaphors, 
of  images  in  the  poetical  sense,  of  subtile  analogies. 
In  its  higher  forms  it  is  seen  in  such  a wonderful  pro- 
duction as  “ Midsummer-High t’s  Dream.”  Its  home 
is  romance.  Yet  even  here  there  is  no  creation  ; there 
is  only  unwonted  connection  — connection  rendered 
harmonious  and  congruous  through  the  oneness  of 
emotional  tone  which  characterizes  it  all.  Fancy  is 
not  revealing  in  its  nature;  it  is  only  stimulating.  It 
affords  keen  delight  rather  than  serves  as  an  organ  of 
penetration. 

Creative  Imagination. — The  highest  form  of  imag- 
ination, however,  is  precisely  an  organ  of  penetration 
into  the  hidden  meaning  of  things— meaning  not  visi- 
ble to  perception  or  memory,  nor  reflectively  attained 
by  the  processes  of  thinking.  It  may  be  defined  as 
the  direct  perception  of  meaning — of  ideal  worth  in 


196 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sensuous  forms ; or  as  the  spontaneous  discovery  of 
the  sensuous  forms  which  are  most  significant,  most 
ideal,  and  which,  therefore,  reveal  most  to  the  intel- 
lect and  appeal  most  to  the  emotions.  In  its  highest 
form,  imagination  is  not  confined  to  isolation  and  com- 
bination of  experiences  already  had,  even  when  these 
processes  occur  under  the  influence  of  sensitive  and 
lively  emotion.  It  is  virtually  creative.  It  makes  its 
object  new  by  setting  it  in  a new  light.  It  separates 
and  combines,  indeed ; but  its  separations  and  combi- 
nations are  not  the  result  of  mechanical  processes,  nor 
of  the  feeling  of  the  moment.  They  are  filled  with  a 
direct  and  spontaneous  sense  of  the  relative  values  of 
detail  in  reference  to  the  whole.  All  is  left  out  that 
does  not  aid  in  developing  the  image  of  this  whole ; all  is 
put  in  that  will  round  out  the  meaning  of  the  details  and 
elevate  them  into  universal  and  permanent  significance. 
V Idealizing  Action  of  Imagination. — Creative  imag- 
ination, in  short,  is  only  the  free  action  of  that  idealiz- 
ing activity  which  is  involved  in  all  knowledge  what- 
ever. Perception  is  idealization  of  sensations  so  that 
they  become  symbolic  of  some  present  reality;  mem- 
ory is  such  an  extension  of  this  idealization  that  past 
experiences  are  represented.  Imagination  takes  the 
idealized  element  by  itself,  and  treats  it  with  reference 
to  its  own  value,  without  regard  to  the  actual  existence 
^ of  the  things  symbolized.  There  is  an  ideal  element 
in  both  perception  and  memory,  but  it  is  tied  down  to 
some  particular  thing.  Creative  imagination  develops 
this  ideal  element,  and  frees  it  from  its  connection  with 
petty  and  contingent  circumstances.  Perception  and 
memory  both  have  their  worth  because  of  the  meaning 
of  the  perceived  or  remembered  thing,  but  this  mean- 


IMAGINATION. 


197 


mg  is  subordinate  to  the  existence  of  the  thing.  Im- 
agination reverses  the  process ; existence  is  subordinate 
to  meaning.  We  perceive  a man  because  we  read  into 
the  sensations  all  that  is  required  to  give  them  this 
significance;  creative  imagination  instinctively  seizes 
upon  this  significance,  this  idea  of  man,  and  embodies 
it  in  some  concrete  manifestation. 

Universalizing  Activity  of  Imagination. — Creative 
imagination  is  not  to  be  considered  as  the  production 
of  unreal  or  fantastic  forms,  nor  as  the  idle  play  of  ca- 
pricious mind  working  in  an  arbitrary  way.  It  is  a 
universalizing  activity ; that  is  to  say,  it  sets  the  idea 
of  memory  or  perception  free  from  its  particular  acci- 
dental accompaniments,  and  reveals  it  in  its  universal 
nature,  the  nature  which  it  possesses  independent  of 
these  varying  concomitants.  It  is  thus  that  Aristotle 
said  that  poetry  is  truer  than  history,  meaning  by  his- 
tory the  mere  record  of  succession  of  facts.  The  latter 
only  tells  us  that  certain  things  happened;  poetry  pre- 
sents to  us  the  permanent  passions,  aspirations,  and 
deeds  of  men  which  are  behind  all  history,  and  which 
make  it.  Keats  expresses  the  same  thought  when  he 
says : 

“What  care  though  owl  did  fly 
About  the  great  Athenian  admiral’s  mast; 

What  care,  though  striding  Alexander  pass’d 
The  Indus  with  his  Macedonian  numbers? 

Juliet  leaning 

Amid  her  window-flowers,  sighing,  weaning 
Tenderly  her  fancy  from  its  maiden  snow 
Doth  more  avail  than  these;  the  silver  flow 
Of  Hero’s  tears,  the  swoon  of  Imogen, 

Fair  Pastorella  in  the  bandit’s  den, 

Are  things  to  brood  on  with  more  ardency 
Than  the  death-day  of  empires.” 


198 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Of  course,  this  universalizing  activity  is  not  to  be  con- 
fined to  the  relation  of  poetry  to  annals;  the  function 
of  the  creative  imagination  everywhere  is  to  seize  upon 
the  permanent  meaning  of  facts,  and  embody  them  in 
such  congruous,  sensuous  forms  as  shall  enkindle  feel- 
ing, and  awaken  a like  organ  of  penetration  in  who- 
ever may  come  upon  the  embodiment. 

Imagination  and  Interest. — It  will  be  noticed  that 
imagination  presents  a stage  in  the  development  of 
knowledge  where  the  self  and  its  interests  are  explicit- 
ly freed  from  slavery  to  the  results  of  the  action  of 
mechanical  association  (page  130),  and  are  made  an  end 
in  themselves.  Imagination  has  no  external  end,  but 
its  end  is  the  free  play  of  the  various  activities  of  the 
self,  so  as  to  satisfy  its  interests.  Imagination,  in 
short,  takes  its  rise  in  feeling,  and  is  directed  by  feel- 
ing much  more  explicitly  than  either  perception  or 
memory.  Imagination  represents  the  subjective  side 
of  self  acting  in  its  freedom.  Its  forms  are  as  various 
and  numerous  as  the  subjects  who  exercise  it,  and  as 
their  interests.  For  this  reason  it  is  impossible  to  lay 
down  rules  for  the  working  of  the  imagination.  Its 
very  essence  is  spontaneous,  unfettered  play,  controlled 
only  by  the  interests,  the  emotions  and  aspirations,  of 
the  self. 

Individual  and  Universal  Interests. — The  interests, 
however,  which  direct  the  creative  play  of  the  imag- 
ination, may  be  peculiar  or  general  in  their  nature,  and 
the  freedom  of  its  activity  may  be  somewhat  arbitrary, 
or  it  may  express  the  universal  aspect  of  mankind. 
Fancy,  for  example,  is  directed  for  the  most  part  by 
feelings  which  one  individual  possesses  rather  than  an- 
other, and  the  same  individual,  in  various  ways,  at  dif- 


IMAGINATION. 


199 


ferent  times  of  his  life.  So  most  poetry  of  fancy  is 
ephemeral.  To  a generation  other  than  that  in  which 
it  is  produced  it  seems  unreal  and  forced.  The  prod- 
uct of  the  imagination  may  also  be  the  result  of  mor- 
bid and  unhealthy  feeling.  It  then  falls  into  what  Rus- 
kin  has  well  named  the  “pathetic  fallacy”;  as  when 
the  poet,  for  example,  finds  his  own  particular  mood 
reflected  in  the  workings  of  nature.  Ruskin  finds  an 
example  of  this  in  Tennyson’s  “ Maud,”  where  the  hero 
attributes  his  own  feelings  to  the  rose  and  the  lily. 
But  there  are  interests  which  are  universal,  common 
to  all  persons;  and  the  art  which  is  the  result  of  these 
interests  is  the  permanent,  enduring  art.  The  poem 
of  Homer,  the  art  of  Michael  Angelo,  and  the  drama 
of  Shakespeare  are  true  to  the  universal  side  of  human- 
ity, not  to  the  individual  and  peculiar  tastes  and  expe- 
riences of  their  authors. 

Basis  of  the  Universal  Interests. — It  must  be  ob- 
served that  the  sole  basis  of  such  action  of  imagina- 
tion as  is  controlled  by  the  universal  feelings  is  a 
fundamental  unity  between  man  and  man  and  be- 
tween man  and  nature.  Were  there  not  such  a thing 
as  the  unified  life  of  humanity,  with  common  inter- 
ests, in  spite  of  separation  of  time  and  space,  all  work- 
ings of  the  imagination  would  be  unreal  and  fantastic. 
But,  more,  there  must  be  an  organic  connection  be- 
tween man  and  nature.  Man  must  find  himself  in 
some  way  in  nature.  It  is  not  all  identification  of  hu- 
manity with  nature  that  comes  under  the  head  of  the 
pathetic  fallacy ; it  is  only  the  identification  of  tempo- 
rary, unhealthy,  or  fleeting  aspects  of  either.  We  find 
joy  in  any  scene  of  nature  just  in  the  degree  in  which 
we  find  ourselves  therein,  and  are  able  to  identify  the 


200 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


workings  of  our  spirit  with  those  of  nature.  The  art 
which  deals  with  nature  is  perfect  and  enduring  just 
in  the  degree  in  which  it  reveals  the  fundamental  uni- 
ties which  exist  between  man  and  nature.  In  Words- 
worth’s poetry  of  nature,  for  example,  we  do  not  find 
ourselves  in  a strange,  unfamiliar  land  ; we  find  Words- 
worth penetrating  into  those  revelations  of  spirit,  of 
meaning  in  nature,  of  which  we  ourselves  had  already 
some  dumb  feeling,  and  this  the  poetry  makes  articu- 
late. All  products  of  the  creative  imagination  are  un- 
conscious testimonies  to  the  unity  of  spirit  which  binds 
man  to  man  and  man  to  nature  in  one  organic  whole. 

Practical  and  Theoretical  Imagination. — We  have 
spoken  so  far  of  imagination  as  controlled  by  the  aes- 
thetic interest,  the  feeling  for  the  beautiful.  But  it 
may  also  be  directed  by  practical  or  theoretic  interests. 
All  inventions  are  the  result  of  the  creative  imagina- 
tion realizing  some  idea  in  behalf  of  the  practical  needs 
of  men.  The  discoveries  of  Wolf  or  of  Niebuhr  in 
history,  of  Cuvier  and  Agassiz  in  science,  are  evidence 
of  the  constructive  power  of  the  imagination  in  theo- 
retic realms.  The  sciences  of  historical  geology  and 
astronomy  are  almost  entirely  fruits  of  the  construc- 
tive imagination.  Science,  as  it  advances,  makes  great- 
er and  greater  demands  upon  the  imagination,  for  it 
recedes  further  from  the  sphere  of  that  which  is  sensu- 
ously present  to  the  realm  of  hidden,  ideal  significance 
and  meaning,  while  it  is  constantly  necessary  to  body 
these  ideas  in  concrete  forms. 

Place  of  Imagination  in  Knowledge. — Imagination, 
considered  in  itself,  manifests,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
free  idealizing  activity  of  mind  working  according  to 
its  own  subjective  interests,  and  having  its  end  merely 


IMAGINATION. 


201 


in  this  free  play  and  self-satisfaction.  But  it  has  also 
an  aspect  as  a stage  of  knowledge.  As  such,  it  is  the 
transition  from  the  particular  stage  to  the  universal. 
Memory  and  perception  deal  with  the  particular  object 
as  such.  Thinking,  which  we  shall  now  take  up,  is 
concerned  with  the  universal  as  such.  Imagination 
deals  with  the  universal  in  its  particular  manifestation, 
or  with  the  particular  as  embodying  some  ideal  mean- 
ing, some  universal  element.  It  dissolves  this  ideal 
element  out  of  its  hard  concretion  in  the  sphere  of  act- 
ual particular  fact,  and  sets  it  before  the  mind  as  an 
independent  element,  with  which  the  mind  may  freely 
work.  Such  free  working  of  the  mind  with  the  uni- 
versal elements,  rendered  fluid  by  imagination,  in  order 
to  reach  certain  intellectual  ends,  constitutes  thinking. 

Hamilton  (op.  cit.),  lect.  xxxiii. ; Porter  (op.  cit. ),  pp.  325-376  ; Carpenter 
(op.  cit.'),  chap.  xii. ; Maudsley  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  522-533;  Sully,  “Psychology,” 
chap.  viii. ; Day,  “Elements  of  Psychology,”  pp.  103-131;  Lewes  (op.  cit.), 
Third  Series,  pt.  2,  pp.  445-463  ; George  (op.  cit.),  pp.  274-280  , Rosenkranz 
(op.  cit.),  p.  258  ff. ; Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  p.  480  ff. ; Ulrici  (op.  cit.),  vol. 
ii.,  pp.  270-300;  Michelet  (op.  cit.),  pp.  284-309;  Fortlage,  essay  in  op.  cit.; 
Frohschammer,  “Die  Phantasie,”  pp.  73-141,  and  monographs  as  follows: 
Michaut  and  Joly,  “ L’lmagination ;”  Rubinstein,  “ Psjmhologisch-asthetische 
Essays ;”  Cohen,  “ Die  dichterische  Phantasie.” 

Educational  references  are  to  Markel,  “Die  Einbildungskraft ;”  Dorpfeld 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  p.  87  ff. ; Grube,  “Yon  der  sittliehen  Bildung  der  Jugend,” 
p.  258  ff. ; Perez  (op.  cit.),  pp.  147-163,  and  “L’Education  des  le  Berceau,” 
pp.  73-110. 

Dreams  may  be  most  conveniently  referred  to  here  : Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp. 
250-262;  Maudsley,  “Pathology  of  Mind,”  chap.  i. ; Carpenter,  “Mental 
Physiology,”  chap.  xv. ; Sully,  in  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  and  “ Illusions,” 
chap.  vii. ; Cobbes,  “ Darwinism  and  other  Essays;”  Wundt  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii., 
pp.  359-370,  and  monographs  as  follows : Schemer,  “ Das  Lehen  des  Traumes 
Binz,  “Ueber  den  Traum ;”  Spitta,  “Die  Schlafzustande ;”  Striimpell,  “Die 
Natur  und  Entstehung  der  Traume ;”  Frensberg,  “ Schlaf  und  Traum ;”  Rade- 
stock,  same  title ; Delboeuf,  “ La  Sommeil  et  les  Reves.” 

9* 


CHAPTER  Till. 

THINKING. 

§ 1.  Definition  and  Division. 

Thinking  is  the  next  stage  in  the  development  of 
knowledge.  Thinking  may  be  defined  as  knowledge 
of  universal  elements  / that  is,  of  ideas  as  such,  or 
of  relations.  In  thinking,  the  mind  is  not  confined, 
as  in  perception  or  memory,  to  the  particular  object 
or  event,  whether  present  or  past.  It  has  to  do,  not 
with  this  man  whom  I see,  or  the  one  I saw  yester- 
day, but  with  the  idea  of  man ; an  idea  which  can- 
not be  referred  to  any  definite  place  or  time ; which 
is,  therefore,  general  or  universal  in  its  nature.  Its 
closest  connection  is  with  imagination,  which  deals 
with  the  general  element  in  the  form  of  a particular 
concrete  image,  but  in  imagination  the  emphasis  is 
upon  this  particular  form,  while  in  thinking  the  par- 
ticular form  is  neglected  in  behalf  of  the  universal 
content.  We  do  not  imagine  man  in  general ; we  im- 
agine some  characteristic  man,  Othello,  King  Arthur, 
etc.  We  cannot  think  a particular  man  ; we  think 
man  in  general ; that  is,  those  universal  qualities  com- 
mon to  all  men — the  class  qualities. 

The  Ideal  Element  in  Thinking. — It  is  worth  notic- 
ing that  the  universal  element  which  is  always  the  ob- 
ject of  thought  is  ideal.  The  phase  of  fact  is  always 
particular.  It  exists  now  or  then  ; in  this  or  that  form. 
But  fact,  as  we  have  so  often  seen,  is  intelligible  only 


THINKING. 


203 


because  of  its  meaning — of  the  ideal  element  contained. 
This  ideal  element  cannot  be  particular.  Meaning  is 
always  universal.  A fact  means,  at  one  time  or  place, 
just  what  it  means  at  another.  If  the  meaning  is 
changed  the  fact  is  not  the  same.  Indeed,  what  we 
understand  by  identity,  or  sameness  of  fact,  is  oneness 
of  meaning.  It  is  this  element  of  meaning  common 
to  all  facts,  in  so  far  as  they  are  the  same,  which  think- 
ing seizes  upon,  to  the  neglect  of  the  limitation  which 
may  be  given  it  by  its  especial  reference  to  this  or  that 
time.  Thinking  endeavors  to  discover  the  meaning  of 
facts  universally.  To  think  man  is  to  apprehend  that 
universal  element  of  ideal  significance  which  constitutes 
a man  wherever  and  whenever  he  is  found. 

Element  of  Relation. — It  is  also  worth  noticing  that 
this  universal  element  of  idea  or  significance  which 
thinking  apprehends,  without  reference  to  its  special 
embodiment,  is  always  a relation.  The  universal  mean- 
ing of  man  is  what  every  man  has  in  common  with  ev- 
ery other ; it  is  the  relation  of  manhood,  whatever  that 
be.  It  is  not  the  final  object  of  the  botanist  to  per- 
ceive or  to  remember  or  to  imagine  vegetable  forms, 
although  he  must  do  all  this.  His  final  object  is  to 
think  vegetable  life  ; that  is,  to  apprehend  the  universal 
essential  meaning  of  these  forms.  More  particularly,  it 
is  to  discover  what  growth  is,  without  reference  to  this 
or  that  growing  thing  in  its  separateness  ; to  apprehend 
the  nature  of  a rose,  without  considering  the  peculiari- 
ties of  this,  that,  or  the  other  rose.  It  is  evident  that 
this  object-matter  of  vegetable  life,  of  growth,  of  rose, 
is  the  relation  which  all  forms  of  vegetable  life  possess  ; 
which  makes  them  vegetable  as  opposed  to  inorganic 
or  animal;  it  is  the  relation  of  growth  common  to  all 


204 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


growing  things,  and  which  characterizes  them  as  such  ; 
it  is  the  common  property,  the  link,  the  relation  which 
binds  all  roses  together  as  members  of  one  class.  In 
short,  if  things  had  nothing  in  common,  if  each  was 
absolutely  distinct  from  every  other,  no  thinking  would 
be  possible.  Since  every  thing  is  distinct  from  every 
other  in  its  existence  in  this  or  that  time  or  place,  the 
common  element  is  one  of  meaning  or  idea.  Think- 
ing is  possible  because  there  exists  in  things  thought 
an  ideal,  universal  element.  The  discovery  of  this  ele- 
ment constitutes  thinking ; when  discovered  it  is  al- 
ways expressed  in  the  form  of  a relation. 

Aspects  of  Thinking. — There  are  three  aspects  of 
thinking  as  more  or  less  complete  stages  of  it.  These 
are,  conception,  judgment,  and  reasoning.  They  are 
not  to  be  considered  three  distinct  acts;  not  even  three 
successive  stages.  No  one  of  them  could  occur  with- 
out each  of  the  others.  Conception,  however,  is  the 
least,  and  reasoning  the  most,  developed. 

§ 2.  Conception. 

1.  Nature  of  Conception. — Every  mental  state  is,  as 
an  existence , an  image.  There  are  not  different  kinds 
of  mental  existences,  one  a percept,  the  other  a con- 
cept. Their  distinction  is  not  in  the  state  of  the  mind, 
but  in  the  function  of  this  state.  A percept  is  an  im- 
age referring  to  some  object  present  in  space ; a phan- 
tasy is  an  image  referring  to  any  object  which  satisfies 
an  emotional  or  practical  interest,  whether  or  not  that 
object  was  ever  present  in  space,  A concept  is  an  im- 
age having  the  function  of  symbolizing  some  law  or 
principle  in  accordance  with  which  a thing  or  number 
of  things  may  be  constructed.  The  number  of  things 


THINKING. 


203 


constructed  on  the  basis  of  this  single  principle  is  a 
class,  kind,  or  genus.  Thus  we  solve  the  old  contro- 
versy about  “ universal  ideas.”  Many  psychologists 
have  denied  that  there  are  general  ideas,  since  every 
mental  state  must  be  particular.  An  idea  of  a triangle, 
for  example,  must  be  of  an  object  of  a certain  size  and 
definite  form.  It  cannot  be  an  idea  of  all  possible 
sizes  and  varieties  at  once.  This  is  true  ; as  to  its  exist- 
ence, every  idea  must  be  particular  and  have  more  or 
less  sensuous  detail.  But  it  is  not  the  existence  that 
we  mean  by  concept.  The  concept  is  the  power,  ca- 
pacity, or  function  of  the  image  or  train  of  images  to 
stand  for  some  mode  of  mental  action,  and  it  is  the 
mode  of  action  which  is  general. 

Conception  is  a Form  of  the  Movement  of  Intelli- 
gence.— In  a mere  image  of  a triangle,  what  is  actually 
present  is  the  meaning;  the  particular  three  lines  en- 
closing a particular  space.  In  the  concept  of  triangle 
the  meaning  is  the  process  by  which  the  three  lines  are 
put  together  so  as  to  enclose  a space.  The  concept  is 
not  the  thing,  nor  the  image  of  the  thing.  It  is  the  way 
in  which  lines  are  made  and  then  combined.  And  this 
process,  this  way  of  constructing,  is  general.  All  pos- 
sible triangles  must  be  made  in  this  same  way.  And 
anything  whatever  made  in  this  way  is  a triangle,  and 
thus  belongs  to  the  class.  A concept,  in  other  words, 
does  not  mean  a mental  state ; it  is  not  static.  It 
means  a mode  of  mental  movement ; a form  of  mental 
action ; this  action  involving,  as  we  shall  see,  isolation 
or  analysis,  and  putting  together  or  synthesis.  So  a 
class  does  not  mean  a static  group ; it  means  a number 
of  objects  having  as  a basis  a common  principle  of  pro- 
duction. 


206 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


2.  Development  of  Conception. — Conception,  as  the 
apperception  of  the  universal,  the  grasping  of  it  in 
a single  act  of  thought,  therefore,  is  not  a new  kind  of 
knowledge,  distinct  from  perception.  It  is  the  more 
complete  development  of  the  element  which  gives 
meaning  to  the  percept,  and  which  renders  the  act  of 
perception  possible.  When  we  perceive  a book,  in 
the  very  act  of  perception  we  classify  it ; we  bring  it 
under  the  concept  “ book.”  Perception  is,  as  we  have 
repeatedly  seen,  the  idealizing  of  sensations.  The  mere 
existence  of  sensations  does  not  constitute  knowledge 
of  a particular  object.  Sensations  must  be  interpreted  ; 
they  must  be  brought  into  relation  with  each  other, 
and  with  the  past  experience  of  the  self.  Perception 
is  not  passive  reception  ; it  is  the  active  outgoing  con- 
struction of  mind.  In  perception,  however,  these  ele- 
ments of  idealization,  of  relation,  of  mind  activity, 
are  not  consciously  present;  they  are  absorbed,  swal- 
lowed up,  in  the  product.  In  conception  they  are  defi- 
nitely brought  out.  Conception  is  the  apperception  of 
the  apperceptive  process.  The  self  here  makes  its  own 
idealizing,  relating  activity  its  object  of  know^dge  • 
it  grasps  this  activity,  and  the  product  is  the  concept. 
Conception  is,  in  short,  but  the  development  of  the 
idealizing  activity  involved  in  all  knowledge  to  the 
point  where  it  gains  distinct  conscious  recognition, 
freed  from  its  sensuous,  particular  detail. 

Processes  of  Conception. — (1.)  Abstraction.  It  is  in 
conception  that  the  stage  of  apperception  called  atten- 
tion, or  the  active  direction  of  the  mind  to  an  end,  be- 
gins to  get  the  upper  hand  of  the  associative  activities 
predominant  in  perception  and  memory,  and  of  the 
dissociative  activity  of  imagination.  It  is  the  selective 


THINKING. 


207 


activity  of  attention  which  is  most  apparent.  The 
mind  seizes  upon  some  one  aspect  of  the  infinite  detail 
of  the  perception  or  the  image  present  to  it;  in  tech- 
nical language,  it  abstracts  or  prescinds  it.  This  very 
seizure  of  some  one  element  generalizes  the  one  ab- 
stracted. In  the  perception  this  quality  which  atten- 
tion lays  hold  on  exists  absorbed  in  the  object;  atten- 
tion, in  drawing  it  forth,  makes  it  a distinct  content 
of  consciousness,  and  thus  universalizes  it ; it  is  con- 
sidered no  longer  in  its  connection  with  the  particular 
object,  but  on  its  own  account;  that  is,  as  an  idea,  or 
what  it  signifies  to  the  mind ; and  significance  is  al- 
ways universal.  The  other  process  of  attention  in- 
volved is  comparison. 

(2.)  Comparison—  This  has  already  been  discussed 
(page  14:3),  and  its  essence  shown  to  be  the  holding  of 
unlike  mental  contents  before  the  mind  with  a view 
to  discovering  their  points  of  identity,  or  likeness  of 
significance.  This  process  always  goes  on  along  with 
the  emphasizing  activity  of  abstraction  just  spoken  of. 
When  any  one  element  or  aspect  of  an  image  has  been 
isolated  the  mind  does  not  stop  short  with  the  bare 
abstract  universal  thus  reached,  but  immediately  pro- 
ceeds to  impose  this  upon  its  other  images,  or  to  find 
it  in  them.  Thus  a child,  when  he  has  got  from  some 
salient  object,  say  a plate,  the  idea  of  roundness,  will 
find  this  idea  in  as  many  other  of  his  experiences  as 
possible.  He  goes  from  the  isolated  idea  to  the  idea 
as  connected  with  other  objects.  This  requires  the 
process  of  comparison  ; at  first  unconscious,  afterwards 
purposive. 

(3.)  Complete  Process  of  Conception. — There  are  thus 
revealed  two  processes  in  conception  ; one  of  analysis, 


208 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  other  of  synthesis.  The  first  step  is  one  of  analy- 
sis, of  abstraction,  of  isolation.  Its  result  is  a purely 
abstract  universal ; as  when  a child,  upon  perceiving  a 
red  apple,  emphasizes,  and  thus  separates,  the  idea  of 
redness  or  of  edibility.  Such  an  idea  is  called  an  ab- 
stract idea.  Bat  the  mind  never  stops  here.  It  imme- 
diately connects  this  idea  of  redness  with  as  many  con- 
crete objects  as  possible.  It  enriches  each  of  them  by 
recognizing  that  it  possesses  this  quality.  It  performs 
an  act  of  synthesis.  Only  when  the  reference  of  the 
abstract  idea  to  objects  is  performed  is  the  act  of  con- 
ception completed.  A true  concept,  in  other  words,  is 
an  organic  unity , containing  within  its  unity  synthetic 
connection  with  all  the  diversity  of  objects  to  which  it 
refers. 

Example. — Let  us  consider  again  the  action  of  the 
botanist  who  is  forming  his  concept  of  vegetable  life. 
At  first,  we  will  say  that  some  salient  aspect  of  vegeta- 
ble life — growth,  assimilation,  reproduction,  decay — 
forces  itself  upon  him  from  some  instance.  This  will 
remain  a purely  abstract,  and  therefore  useless,  idea, 
until  he  compares ; that  is,  until  he  recognizes  the 
presence  of  this  element  in  other  plants.  But  every 
time  he  does  recognize  its  presence  his  idea  becomes 
less  vague,  less  abstract,  more  definite.  He  recognizes 
new  qualities,  which  must  be  included  in  the  idea ; ev- 
ery time  he  perceives  a new  plant  his  concept  must  be 
somewhat  enriched.  His  concept,  with  growing  expe- 
rience, becomes,  therefore,  at  once  more  universal  (for 
it  refers  to  more  and  more  objects)  and  more  definite, 
for  he  knows  more  and  more  elements  which  go  to 
make  up  the  conception  of  vegetable  life.  It  is  the 
same  with  the  growth  of  every  concept.  It  grows  at 


THINKING. 


20§ 


once  in  wideness  of  reference  and  in  depth  of  signifi- 
cance. More  and  more  objects  are  unified  by  being 
referred  to  the  conception  ; more  and  more  diversity 
is  included  within  it.  The  concept,  in  short,  is  a union 
of  the  two  elements  of  unity  and  difference.  It  is  the 
recognition  of  a one  comprehending  many  differences. 

Extension  and  Intension. — The  logicians  distinguish 
between  the  extension  of  a concept  and  its  intension. 
Extension  is  the  width  of  its  symbolism,  the  number 
of  objects  to  which  it  refers ; intension  is  the  depth  of 
its  significance,  the  number  of  qualities  to  which  it  re- 
fers. The  logicians  further  say  that  the  wider  the  ex- 
tension the  less  the  intension,  and  vice  versa.  That  is 
to  say,  the  larger  the  number  of  objects  included  under 
a concept,  the  fewer  qualities  will  be  contained  in  the 
conception  of  the  class.  However  this  may  be  in  formal 
logic,  it  has  no  application  to  psychological  processes. 
We  have  already  seen  that  the  widening  of  the  grasp 
of  attention  does  not  mean  that  less  attention  is  paid 
to  the  different  objects  included  in  the  grasp,  but  that 
these  differences  are  reduced  to  a more  fundamental  uni- 
ty (page  145),  and  conception  only  illustrates  this  same 
truth. 

With  all  increase  of  abstract  analysis,  or  widening 
of  extension,  goes  increase  of  synthetic  connection,  or 
deepening  of  intension.  Were  this  not  so,  we  would 
be  compelled  to  say  that  the  more  the  botanist  studies 
vegetable  life  the  less  he  knows  about  it.  If  the  con- 
cept were  simply  the  abstract  idea  of  what  is  common 
to  all  the  objects  of  the  class,  each  new  item,  each  new 
plant  known,  would  strike  out  something  of  the  defi- 
niteness of  the  idea.  When  the  idea  had  reached  refer- 
ence to  all  objects  of  a class,  or  complete  extension,  its 


210 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


meaning,  or  intension,  would  reach  its  lowest  degree. 
The  more  objects  known  the  thinner  and  poorer  the 
idea  of  them.  The  absurdity  of  this  makes  us  recog- 
nize that  a true  concept  is,  as  was  said,  an  organic  unity, 
growing  more  definite  by  connection  with  the  diversity 
of  objects,  at  the  same  time  that  it  grows  more  univer- 
sal by  reference  to  the  similarities  of  objects. 

Growth  of  Knowledge. — This  is  a convenient  place 
to  refer  to  a common  theory  regarding  the  nature  of 
growth  of  knowledge.  It  is  too  often  said  that  knowl- 
edge proceeds  from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  or 
from  the  particular  to  the  general.  The  fact  is  that 
knowledge  proceeds  from  the  individual  to  the  indi- 
vidual. The  individual  with  which  it  begins  may  be 
regarded  indifferently  as  exceedingly  indefinite  or  gen- 
eralized, or  as  very  particular,  i.  e.,  non-universal,  in  its 
reference.  The  typical  example  of  this  is  found  in  a 
child’s  recognition  of  men.  The  child  first  calls  his 
father  papa ; at  the  same  time  he  calls  all  men  papa. 
His  idea  is  very  vague ; he  refers  it  to  the  whole  class. 
In  this  sense,  he  begins  with  general  knowledge,  and 
his  knowledge  advances  by  becoming  definite  or  dis- 
tinct. He  learns  to  distinguish  between  his  father  and 
other  men  ; between  one  man  and  another. 

Increase  in  Universality. — But,  at  the  same  time, 
his  knowledge  is  increasing  in  universality.  This 
vagueness  does  not  constitute  true  universality,  for  the 
child  has  no  recognition  of  what  constitutes  a man. 
He  has  simply  a particular  idea  which  he  refers  to 
every  individual  whom  he  sees.  At  the  same  time  that 
his  knowledge  becomes  more  definite,  in  that  he  dis- 
tinguishes between  one  man  and  another,  it  becomes 
more  universal,  for  he  learns  what  constitutes  a man. 


THINKING. 


211 


He  no  longer  calls  all  men  papa,  for  he  recognizes  the 
relation  of  paternity  necessary  for  this  idea ; but  in 
calling  individuals  men,  he  knows  more  and  more  what 
is  meant  by  the  term,  and  meaning  is  always  universal. 

Real  State  of  Case. — When  one  says  that  knowledge 
begins  with  the  concrete  or  particular,  he  overlooks  the 
fact  that  it  is  an  extremely  indefinite  or  vague  particu- 
lar, and  that  knowledge  advances  by  making  it  more 
definite  and  distinct,  that  is,  more  concrete.  When 
one  says  that  it  goes  to  the  general  or  abstract,  he  over- 
looks the  fact  that  this  abstract  idea  is  only  one  phase 
of  conception  ; that,  as  matter  of  fact,  the  general  idea 
is  always  immediately  referred  to  some  object,  and  that 
it  is  through  this  reference  of  universality  to  the  ob- 
ject that  the  latter  gets  its  definite  meaning.  The 
state  of  the  case  is  that  knowledge  begins  with  a vague 
individual,  and  advances  towards  a definite  individ- 
ual, through  the  medium  of  relation  to  other  ideas,  or 
of  the  universalizing  of  the  original  idea.  The  gen- 
eral  idea  which  is  the  result  of  analytic  abstraction  is 
never  left  floating  in  the  air,  but  is  synthetically  re- 
turned upon  the  individual  objects,  to  their  lasting  en- 
richment and  growth  in  meaning  or  universality.  At 
the  same  time  the  universal  idea  which  is  thus  re- 
ferred to  the  diversity  of  objects  included  under  it 
becomes  more  definite.  Put  concretely,  perception 
grows  through  the  medium  of  conception  ; conception 
grows  through  its  synthetic  reference  to  perceptions. 

3.  Conception  and  Language.  — It  is  especially 
through  the  medium  of  language  that  the  universal 
element  of  conception  gets  its  reference  to  particular 
objects  and  is  made  definite.  Language  is  the  con- 
stant activity  of  mind  seizing  upon  particular  objects 


212 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


and  universalizing  them  by  reference  to  the  concep- 
tion, and  seizing  upon  the  conception  and  particular- 
izing it  by  connecting  it  with  objects.  Every  name  is 
universal  in  its  nature.  When  I say  “man,”  I do  not 
say  any  particular  man,  this  man  or  that  man ; I say 
man  “ in  general,”  that  is,  the  ideal  quality,  the  signifi- 
cance of  man.  Language  can  never  get  hold  of  exist- 
ence ; it  can  only  get  hold  of  meaning.  Language 
needs  some  sensuous  pointing  index-finger,  as  the  term 
“ this”  or  “ that,”  connected  with  gesture,  to  become 
particular  in  its  reference. 

Language  in  Existence  Particular. — Yet  we  must 
avoid  falling  into  a common  error.  It  is  sometimes 
said  that  the  idea  is  always  particular,  as  of  this  or 
that  man,  and  becomes  general  by  being  brought  under 
the  name  “ man,”  which  is  the  only  universal  element. 
The  fact  is  that  the  name  “ man  ” as  an  existence  is 
purely  sensuous  or  particular  in  its  nature.  It  is  so 
much  breath,  put  forth  at  a certain  time,  by  a certain 
person,  and  as  existence  that  is  all  it  is.  It  becomes 
general  only  because,  by  embodying  the  idea  in  itself, 
it  stands  for,  represents,  symbolizes,  all  objects  possess- 
ing this  idea  or  significance.  Language  has,  therefore, 
a double  function.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  purely  gen- 
eral in  its  reference.  Without  language  our  capacity 
for  general  ideas,  or  the  recognition  of  relations,  of 
common  meaning  in  different  objects,  would  be  almost 
null.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  language,  as  purely  sen- 
suous and  particular  in  its  existence,  serves  to  make 
abstract  ideas  concrete  or  definite,  by  necessarily  con- 
necting them  with  some  object. 

Twofold  Activity  of  Mind. — It  is  all-important,  in 
this  connection,  to  recognize  that  language  is  not  an 


THINKING. 


213 


excrescence  of  mind  or  graft  upon  it ; but  that  it  is  an 
essential  mode  of  the  expression  of  its  activity.  Con- 
ception, as  the  apprehending  of  a universal  element  of 
meaning,  is,  as  we  have  seen,  the  grasping  by  the  mind 
of  its  own  activity  ; it  is  the  apperception  of  the  apper- 
ceptive process.  In  conceiving,  the  mind  gets  hold  of 
what  it  has  itself  put  into  presentations,  namely,  mean- 
ing. Universalizing  is,  therefore,  one  form  of  the  ac- 
tivity of  mind.  But  if  this  activity  of  mind  remained 
without  a name  it  would  be  shapeless  ; it  would  be  ab- 
stract beyond  recognition.  The  mind  takes  this  idea, 
its  own  universalizing  activity,  and  particularizes  it; 
it  renders  it  sensuous,  concrete,  by  bodying  it  forth  in 
language.  The  abstract  idea  is  projected  into  real  ex- 
istence through  the  medium  of  language. 

Language  and  Mind. — It  is  generally  said  that  ani- 
mals do  not  have  language  because  they  cannot  form 
general  ideas.  This  is  true,  but  what  is  generally 
overlooked  is  just  as  true.  They  are  also  lacking  in 
the  particularizing  activity  of  intelligence.  Their  ideas 
are  too  abstract — not  lacking  in  abstractness.  They 
have  not  the  power  of  rendering  them  definite,  hence 
they  lack  language.  Language  is  objective  testimony 
to  the  twofold  activity  of  mind ; in  its  meaning , its 
symbolism,  its  ideal  quality,  it  is  universal ; in  its  ex- 
istence, its  real  quality,  it  is  particular.  Mind  is  at 
once  a universalizing  or  ideal  activity,  and  a particu- 
larizing or  real  activity. 

§ 3.  Judgment. 

A concept,  we  have  seen,  involves  reference  of 
the  universal  element  contained  in  it  to  a particular 
definite  object;  it  involves  connection  of  its  ideal  sig- 


214 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


nificance  with  reality.  Judgment  is  the  express  affir- 
mation of  this  connection.  It  develops  and  asserts 
what  is  contained  in  the  concept.  Judgment  may  be 
defined  as  the  express  reference  of  the  idea  or  universal 
element  to  reality , the  particular  element.  In  judgment 
we  not  only  think  man,  but  we  affirm  that  man  exists  ; 
that  this  man  is  a European,  is  an  American  ; that 
man  has  a brain  ; that  he  is  rational,  etc.  Judgment 
takes  the  concept  and  says  something  about  it ; it 
makes  it  definite. 

Elements  of  Judgment. — A judgment  expressed  in 
language  takes  the  form  of  a proposition,  and  includes 
two  elements,  the  subject  and  the  predicate.  All  judg- 
ments involve  both  intension  and  extension,  but  one  of 
these  aspects  may  be  more  apparent  than  the  other. 
For  example,  when  I say  that  “a  lion  is  a quadruped,” 
the  judgment  states  one  element  of  the  meaning  of 
lion,  the  idea  of  fourfootedness,  and  it  also  includes 
the  lion  in  the  class  or  number  of  objects  called  quad- 
rupeds. When  we  consider  the  aspect  of  intension  or 
meaning,  we  refer  the  predicate  as  the  idea  to  the  sub- 
ject as  reality  ; when  we  consider  the  aspect  of  exten- 
sion or  reference  to  objects,  we  refer  the  subject  as 
the  ideal  element  to  the  predicate  as  reality.  For  ex- 
ample, when  I say  that  “ man  exists,”  I may  mean  to 
assert  either  that  the  quality  of  existence  belongs  to 
the  object  man,  or,  more  likely,  I mean  that,  among 
the  objects  constituting  reality,  the  idea  of  man  is  to 
be  also  found.  The  judgment,  in  short,  may  either 
idealize  a real  thing,  by  stating  its  meaning,  or  it  may, 
so  to  say,  realize  an  idea  by  asserting  that  it  is  one  of 
the  universe  of  objects.  As  matter  of  fact,  it  always 
does  both. 


THINKING. 


215 


Judgment  the  Typical  Act. — It  follows  that  judg- 
ment is  the  typical  act  of  intelligence.  When  we  were 
studying  the  processes  of  knowledge,  Ave  found  that 
apperception  consists  in  giving  a presentation  mean- 
ing by  interpreting  it  or  idealizing  it.  When  we  stud- 
ied the  material  of  knowledge,  Ave  found  that  the  basis 
of  knowledge  is  sensation,  and  that  without  this  basis 
an  idea  cannot  exist.  Apperception  idealizes  sensa- 
tion, sensation  realizes  apperception.  In  studying  the 
concrete  forms — perception,  memory,  imagination — Ave 
have  discovered  in  all  cases  this  dual  relation  of  sensa- 
tion as  real  basis,  and  apperception  as  ideal  interpreta- 
tion ; the  elements  of  meaning  and  existence.  Judg- 
ment is  not,  therefore,  a neAv  and  hitherto  unheard-of 
act  of  mind ; it  is  simply  the  conscious  recognition  of 
the  essence  of  every  act  of  mind — the  mutual  connec- 
tion of  the  ideal  element  Avith  the  real.  Perception  is 
a judgment  of  place;  memory,  a judgment  of  time; 
imagination,  a judgment  of  ideal  Avorth. 

Judgment  and  Conception. — The  relation  of  judg- 
ment and  conception  is  a tAvofold  one.  The  judgment 
is  an  amplification  of  the  conception  ; and  it  is  also  an 
enrichment  of  it.  All  the  possible  judgments  that  I 
can  form  about  gold  are,  in  one  sense,  so  many  devel- 
opments of  the  conception.  When  I say  that  its  atomic 
weight  is  197  ; that  it  is  malleable,  soluble  in  aqua  re- 
gia, etc.,  I am  only  stating  so  many  elements  already 
involved  in  the  conception  of  gold.  But,  on  the  other 
hand,  without  these  judgments  I should  never  have  dis- 
covered that  these  elements  were  involved  in  the  con- 
ception of  gold.  Each  new  judgment  that  I form  en- 
ables me  to  include  something  in  the  conception  of 
gold  not  included  before.  The  conception,  in  this 


216 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sense,  is  only  a concentration  of  judgments;  it  is  the 
result  of  them  ; while,  on  the  other  hand,  judgment  is 
a result  of  conception.  Each  presupposes  the  other. 

Analytic  and  Synthetic  Judgments. — The  judgment, 
so  far  as  it  unfolds  something  involved  in  the  concep- 
tion, is  analytic;  so  far  as  it  enriches  the  conception 
by  some  new  meaning,  or  refers  it  to  some  reality  to 
which  it  had  not  been  previously  referred,  it  is  syn- 
thetic. These  are  not,  therefore,  two  kinds  of  judg- 
ments ; they  are  two  aspects  of  one  and  the  same  judg- 
ment. Judgment  is  at  one  time  synthetic,  at  another,  an- 
alytic. This  may  be  put  in  another  way  by  saying  that 
every  judgment  affirms  both  identity  and  difference. 

Examples. — If  I say  that  a hog  is  a pachyderm,  it  is 
evident  that  I identify  both  ideas ; I form  a connection 
or  synthesis.  What  is  not  so  evident  is  that  I also 
differentiate  them,  or  distinguish  between  them.  That 
this  is  so  may  be  seen  from  the  fact  that  there  can  be 
no  judgment  where  there  is  only  one  idea.  A judg- 
ment involves  duality.  No  one,  except  a formal  logi- 
cian, ever  makes  an  identical  judgment  only.  When 
we  say  “ a man’s  a man,”  we  still  imply  difference. 
We  mean  that,  in  spite  of  all  differences  of  rank, 
wealth,  education,  etc.,  every  man  is  distinguished 
by  the  possession  of  manhood.  We  assert  distinc- 
tion as  well  as  unity,  though  the  latter  affirmation 
is  generally  more  apparent,  except  in  negative  judg- 
ments. Since  every  act  of  intelligence  implies  both 
unification  and  differentiation,  and  judgment  affirms 
this  implication,  it  is  evident,  from  another  point  of 
view,  that  judgment  is  the  typical  act  of  intelligence. 

Falsity  and  Truth  of  Judgments. — In  one  sense  psy- 
chology is  not  concerned  with  the  distinction  between 


THINKING. 


217 


false  and  true  judgments,  as  both  are  equally  psycho- 
logical processes.  But,  even  from  a purely  psychical 
standpoint,  a difference  is  recognized,  for  the  mind  re- 
gards some  of  its  judgments  as  untrue,  and  proceeds 
to  correct  them,  while  others  it  does  not  change.  The 
psychological  question  is  simply,  therefore,  as  to  the 
conditions  under  which  the  mind  regards  any  judg- 
ment as  true  or  false.  It  is  to  be  noted,  in  the  first 
place,  that  judgment  is  the  act  of  mind  to  which  this 
distinction  clings.  Both  in  perception  and  in  memory 
the  sensuous  element  is  always  true,  and  the  act  of  the 
mind  is  always  true.  To  speak  more  correctly,  they 
are  facts  which  exist,  and  to  which  the  distinction  of 
falsity  or  truth  does  not  apply.  The  element  of  truth 
comes  in  only  when  one  is  referred  to  the  other;  that 
is,  in  the  judgment. 

Examples. — If,  for  example,  one  perceives  a ghost, 
the  sensuous  element  is  really  there,  and  is  just  what 
it  is.  The  act  of  mind  also  takes  place.  Each  of  these 
is  a fact,  and  cannot  be  called  true  or  false.  At  most 
it  may  be  called  normal  or  abnormal.  The  element 
of  truth  comes  in  when  one  is  connected  with  the 
other ; that  is  to  say,  when  the  sensuous  presentation 
is  interpreted  by  the  act  of  mind,  as  an  existing  ghost. 
This  is  the  reference  of  the  ideal  element  to  reality,  or 
the  judgment.  Only  a judgment,  accordingly,  can  be 
true  or  false.  From  a psychological  standpoint  a judg- 
ment is  called  true  when  it  harmonizes  with  all  other 
judgments;  false  when  it  is  in  contradiction  to  some 
other.  Suppose,  for  example,  an  individual  interprets 
a distant  cloud  as  a mountain.  The  judgment  is  false, 
because  it  does  not  agree  with  other  judgments  which 
he  would  be  forced  to  make  about  the  presentation 
10 


218 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


with  growing  knowledge  of  it.  If  I interpret  a shad- 
owy form,  seen  in  dim  moonlight,  as  a tree,  and  the 
judgment  is  true,  it  is  so  because  all  other  judgments 
which  I can  make  about  it  will  be  in  harmony  with 
this  one.  Truth,  in  short,  from  a psychological  stand- 
point, is  agreement  of  relations;  falsity,  disagreement 
of  relations. 

Test  of  Truth. — It  follows  from  what  has  just  been 
said  that  the  mind  always  tests  the  truth  of  any  sup- 
posed fact  by  comparing  it  to  the  acquired  system  of 
truth.  When  a novel  proposition  is  brought  before 
the  mind,  intelligence  views  it  in  the  light  of  what 
it  already  regards  as  true,  or  in  the  light  of  relations 
previously  laid  down.  If  the  new  relation  coincides 
with  the  former,  still  more  if  the  new  one  expands 
them,  or  vice  versa , it  is  judged  to  be  true;  if  there 
is  irreconcilable  conflict,  one  or  the  other  must  be 
false. 

It  must  not  be  thought  from  this  that  the  mind  has 
any  ready-made  test  existing  within  it  by  whose  appli- 
cation it  can  decide  upon  the  falsity  or  truth  of  any 
judgment.  There  is  no  simple  criterion  or  rule  for 
determining  truth  which  can  be  applied  immediately 
to  every  judgment ; the  only  criterion  is  relation  to  the 
whole  body  of  acquired  knowledge,  or  the  acquired  sys- 
tem of  relations,  so  far  as  it  is  realized.  The  worth  of 
the  criterion  will  evidently  depend  upon  the  degree  in 
which  the  intelligence  has  been  realized  and  knowledge 
acquired. 

Belief. — This  introduces  us  naturally  to  the  subject 
of  belief.  Belief  is,  perhaps,  emotional  in  character, 
while  its  test  is  volition,  but  its  content  is  always  fixed 
by  knowledge.  It  is  the  subjective  side  of  knowledge. 


THINKING. 


219 


To  believe  a thing  is  to  regard  it  as  true.  The  most 
important  point  regarding  the  psychology  of  belief  is 
the  recognition  that  it  is  not  a separate  state  of  mind 
over  and  beyond  the  judgment,  but  is  a necessary  ac- 
companiment of  it.  Every  act  of  intelligence,  every 
assertion,  that  is,  of  a relation,  is  believed  to  be  true. 
Intelligence  must  recognize  its  own  existence,  its  own 
workings;  and  this  recognition  is  belief.  Intelligence 
must  believe  in  itself,  and  must  therefore  accompany 
every  judgment,  so  far  as  it  is  considered  as  an  exer- 
cise of  intelligence,  with  belief  in  its  truth. 

Doubt. — But  the  mind  learns,  in  growing  experience, 
that  not  every  judgment  does  agree  with  the  condi- 
tions of  universal  intelligence  ; that  is,  it  discovers  that 
some  of  its  judgments  contradict  others.  It  thus  ar- 
rives at  a state  of  suspense ; it  is  not  sure  whether  this 
particular  judgment  agrees  or  not  with  itself,  with  the 
whole  system  of  knowledge.  It  learns  that  a great 
many,  perhaps  most  of  its  judgments,  have  to  be  cor- 
rected with  growing  experience,  and  thus  it  learns  to 
assume  a state  of  suspended  judgment.  It  no  longer 
assumes  truth,  as  the  child’s  mind  does;  it  waits  for 
evidence;  and  by  evidence  is  meant  simply  token  of 
the  connection  of  the  relation  under  consideration  with 
the  whole  body  of  relations  which  constitute  intelli- 
gence. 

Unbelief. — When  the  evidence  points  to  the  partic- 
ular given  relation  not  standing  in  harmonious  relation 
with  the  entire  body  of  known  truth,  the  mind  assumes 
an  attitude  of  unbelief.  But  it  must  be  noted  that 
unbelief  is  only  a particular  act  of  mind  ; it  cannot  be 
universal.  Universal  unbelief  would  be  unbelief  of  in- 
telligence in  intelligence,  and  this  is  self-contradictory. 


220 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


More  concretely,  every  definite  unbelief  presupposes 
belief.  We  disbelieve  this  or  that  particular  judgment 
because  we  believe,  first,  in  the  general  workings  of 
intelligence ; and,  secondly,  because  we  believe  some 
other  judgment  is  true  which  contradicts  this  one.  We 
disbelieve  this,  in  short,  because  we  believe  that ; unbe- 
lief is  only  a special  case  of  belief.  Denial  must  be 
because  of  some  affirmation. 

§ 4.  Reasoning. 

The  whole  previous  discussion  has  been  such  as  to 
make  us  recognize  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
purely  immediate  knowledge.  Any  cognition  is  de- 
pendent ; that  is,  it  is  because  of  some  other  cogni- 
tion. The  act  which  is  apparently  most  immediate 
is  perception.  But  perception,  as  when  I say  this  is  a 
book,  is  still  mediated.  The  sensation  which  I have, 
the  direct  presentation,  does  not  tell  me  that  this  is  a 
book.  I know  that  this  is  a book  when  I can  refer 
these  present  sensations  to  my  past  experience  and  in- 
terpret them  thereby.  Were  it  not  for  this  act  of 
reference  the  sensations  would  have  no  meaning,  and 
would  not  be  interpreted  as  a book,  or  as  anything  else. 
All  knowledge  implies,  in  short,  a going  beyond  what 
is  sensuously  present  to  its  connection  with  some- 
thing else,  and  it  is  this  act  of  going  beyond  the  pres- 
ent which  constitutes  the  mediate  factor. 

Definition  of  Reasoning.—  In  perception,  in  memory, 
in  judgment,  however,  this  mediate  element  is  absorbed 
in  the  result.  We  do  not  recognize  when  Ave  say,  “ This 
is  a book,”  “ Snow  is  Avhite,”  “ Columbus  discovered 
America  in  1492,”  “ I once  saw  General  Grant,”  that 
there  is  a reason  for  each  of  these  psychical  acts,  outside 


THINKING. 


221 


of  itself,  and  that  the  whole  meaning  of  each  depends 
on  its  relation  to  this  something  beyond.  We  perform 
the  act  and  get  the  result  because,  indeed,  of  something 
else ; but  we  do  not  recognize  the  because.  All  mean- 
ing is  through  relation  to  something  else,  but  in  the 
results  so  far  studied  we  have  neglected  that  through 
which  each  result  is,  and  have  considered  it  only  as  a 
result.  Reasoning  is  the  explicit  recognition  of  this 
mediate  element  involved  in  all  knowledge.  It  is  con- 
sciously knowing  that  a thing  is  so  because  of,  or 
through,  its  relations,  its  reference  to  something  be- 
yond its  own  existence.  It  is,  therefore,  no  new  act 
of  knowledge,  but  the  development  of  the  act  upon 
which  all  knowledge  depends.  Reasoning  may  ac- 
cordingly be  defined  as  that  act  of  mind  which  recog- 
nizes those  relations  of  any  content  of  consciousness 
through  which  it  has  the  meaning  which  it  has , or 
is  what  it  is. 

Implicit  Reasoning . — Ordinarily  the  relation  is  rec- 
ognized through  a particular  case.  We  say,  “This  is 
snow,”  because  it  is  like  the  snow  we  experienced  last 
winter.  We  conclude  from  one  particular  instance  to 
another.  So  the  child  says,  “ This  hre  will  burn,”  be- 
cause he  has  seen  some  other  fire  that  burned.  He 
throws  iron  into  the  water  to  see  it  sink,  because  some 
other  heavy  body  has  sunk.  If  all  bodies  which  he  had 
thrown  in  had  sunk  he  would  conclude  that  a piece  of 
cotton  would  sink  likewise.  Such  reasoning,  in  short, 
simply  goes  from  the  likeness  of  one  case  to  another 
without  recognizing  in  what  the  likeness  consists.  This 
is  called  implicit  reasoning.  Every  perception,  every 
remembrance,  is  a case  of  implicit  reasoning.  If  the 
child  interprets  certain  sensations  and  says  that  he  sees 


222 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


a man,  it  is  because  of  the  likeness,  unconsciously  rec- 
ognized, of  this  experience  to  others. 

Explicit  Reasoning . — The  mind  may,  however,  con- 
sciously recognize  the  element  of  identity  which  con- 
nects the  two  cases  ; it  may  know  why  it  calls  this 
substance  snow,  and  why  it  expects  that  fire  will  burn. 
It  will  recognize  in  the  present  object  those  properties 
which  constitute  snow — water,  reduced  to  a certain 
temperature  and  crystallized  in  a certain  way.  It  will 
perceive  in  the  burning  of  fire  an  exemplification  of  a 
general  law  of  molecular  action.  It  will  not  merely 
proceed  from  the  likeness  of  one  case  to  make  some 
assertion  about  another,  but  it  will  recognize  that  it 
does  so,  and  also  in  what  the  identity  consists.  This 
is  explicit  reasoning,  and  to  it  the  term  reasoning  is 
generally  confined. 

Universal  Element  in  Reasoning. — Reasoning, 
whether  implicit  or  explicit,  is  dependent  upon  the 
presence  of  a relation,  that  is,  of  a universal  factor. 
When  we  reason  from  one  particular  case  to  another  and 
say,  “ This  drug  will  cure  your  disorder  because  it  cured 
mine,”  the  basis  of  the  conclusion  is  still  a universal  ele- 
ment. The  person  identifies  one  disorder  with  another, 
and  reasons  that  what  a drug  does  once  it  will  always  do. 
The  trouble  with  such  reasoning  is  not  that  it  is  too 
particular,  but  that  it  is  too  general.  It  overlooks  any 
differences  that  may  exist  between  the  disorders  which 
will  cause  the  drug  to  act  differently  in  the  two  cases, 
and  lumps  them  both  under  the  vague  and  general 
ideas  — disorder,  cure.  Explicit  reasoning  discovers 
the  universal  element,  the  relation  of  identity,  which 
is  at  work  in  implicit  reasoning.  It  says  that  this 
drug  will  cure  the  disorder  because  of  a certain  re- 


THINKIXG. 


223 


lation  existing  between  the  two.  Its  advantage  over 
implicit  reasoning  is  that  it  does  not  perform  the  iden- 
tification at  a jump,  but  looks  to  see  where  the  relation, 
the  universal  element,  really  is. 

Particular  Element  in  Reasoning . — It  follows,  from 
what  has  been  said,  that  reasoning  involves  the  particu- 
lar element  as  well  as  the  universal.  Reasoning  always 
connects  the  universal  and  the  particular;  judgment 
does  this  also,  as  when  one  says  that  wood  floats. 
Here  we  may  say  that  the  universal  idea  of  wood  is 
made  more  definite  and  particular  by  attributing  to  it 
the  possession  of  a certain  quality ; or  we  may  say 
that  the  particular  idea  of  wood  is  brought  under  the 
wider  and  more  general  idea  of  floating,  according  as 
we  regard  it  as  a judgment  of  intension  or  of  extension. 
In  either  case  it  expresses  the  relation  of  a particular 
with  a universal  element ; and  what  reasoning  does  is  to 
develop  the  ground  or  reason  of  this  relation.  This  piece 
of  wood  floats  because  it  possesses  a characteristic  of 
wood  in  general — a certain  specific  gravity.  Here  rea- 
soning universalizes  the  particular,  for  it  finds  the  reason 
for  a particular  fact  in  a universal  relation  or  law.  Or 
we  say  wood  floats,  because  the  general  idea  of  wood  is 
distinguished  by  the  possession  of  this  quality.  Here  rea- 
soning particularizes  the  universal.  It  finds  the  connec- 
tion of  a universal  relation  with  a particular  definite  case. 

A Priori  and  A Posteriori  Reasoning. — This  ena- 
bles us  to  understand  a distinction  sometimes  made  be- 
tween empirical  and  rational  thought,  or  knowledge  a 
posteriori,  the  result  of  experience,  and  knowledge  a 
priori , the  result  of  reason.  These  are  often  treated 
as  if  they  were  two  kinds  of  knowledge,  instead  of  be- 
ing, as  they  really  are,  two  stages  in  the  development 


221 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  knowledge.  Empirical  knowledge  goes  from  one 
particular  to  another  by  means  of  the  universal  ele- 
ment which  connects  them,  but  is  not  conscious  of  the 
universal  element.  Reason  recognizes  the  universal 
element,  the  relation,  and  uses  it  to  connect  one  par- 
ticular, one  fact,  with  another.  All  knowledge  is,  as 
we  have  seen,  the  recognition  of  reason  ; for  it  is  the 
recognition  of  relation,  and  reasoning  is  the  act  of  re- 
lating. Perception  is  the  recognition  that  an  object  is 
such  or  such,  because  it  has  the  same  meaning  as  some 
past  experience ; that  is,  is  identical  with  it  in  signifi- 
cance, though  not  in  existence.  As  recognition  of  mean- 
ing, it  is  recognition  of  reason,  for  meaning  is  the  con- 
nection of  sensuous  presentations  with  past  experiences, 
and  reasoning  is  the  act  of  connecting.  A posteriori 
knowledge  is  simply  the  unconscious  recognition  of  the 
universal  element,  or  relation,  the  ideal  significance  ; a 
'priori  knowledge  is  the  conscious  recognition  of  it. 
For  example,  if  one  simply  notices  that  a loud  noise 
accompanies  an  explosion,  such  knowledge  is  rightly 
called  empirical.  But  if  one  discovers  an  identity  of 
internal  connection  between  the  two  facts  the  knowl- 
edge is  rational.  The  known  fact  is  no  longer  a mere 
coincidence,  but  depends  upon  a necessary  relation. 
Knowledge,  in  one  case,  is  a posteriori,  for  it  follows  the 
occurrence;  in  the  other,  it  is  a priori,  for  the  relation 
is  the  condition  of  the  event. 

Inductive  and  Deductive  Reasoning. — All  reason- 
ing, accordingly,  connects  a universal  and  a particular 
element.  Its  procedure  may,  however,  be  in  either 
direction.  It  may  consist  in  making  the  particular 
universal,  by  bringing  it  under  the  head  of  some  law, 
and  thus  giving  it  the  properties  of  a class.  This  act  of 


THINKING. 


225 


bringing  a particular  under  a universal,  or  of  imposing 
a universal  upon  a particular,  is  called  deduction.  It 
may  be  illustrated  as  follows  : This  substance  has  a less 
specific  gravity  than  water ; all  such  substances  float ; 
therefore  this  substance  floats.  The  reason  for  a par- 
ticular fact  is  found  in  the  general  relation.  If  the 
mind,  however,  starts  from  the  particular  facts,  and 
discovers  in  them  the  universal,  the  law,  the  process  is 
one  of  induction.  A scientific  man,  for  example,  in- 
vestigates some  oxygen,  and  finds  its  atomic  weight  to 
be  16.  He  immediately  says  that  the  atomic  weight  of 
oxygen  is  16  ; not  of  this  oxygen  examined  alone,  but 
of  oxygen,  the  substance,  generally.  He  regards-  the 
particular  as  an  instance  of  a class,  and  finds  in  the 
part  the  law  of  the  whole.  He  isolates  some  one  rela- 
tion from  the  complex  whole.  This  act  constitutes  in- 
duction. The  universal  is  discovered  in  the  particular. 

Synthesis  and  Analysis. — We  have  seen  from  our 
study  of  the  mind  that  it  is  always  active  in  the  dis- 
covery of  relations  of  identity  and  of  difference  ; that 
it  unites  and  separates.  Deduction  and  induction  are 
not  new,  previously  unexperienced  activities  of  the 
mind.  They  are  the  reappearance  of  the* identifying 
and  distinguishing  activities.  They  are  highly  devel- 
oped forms  of  the  process  of  attention.  Deduction  is 
synthetic.  It  connects  the  universal  relation  with  this 
or  that  special  case ; it  finds  that  the  apple  falls  to  the 
ground  because  of  the  law  of  gravitation.  It  enriches 
the  particular  by  adding  a new  element,  a new  quality, 
a new  significance,  to  it.  Induction  is  analytic.  It 
examines  some  particular  so  as  to  discover  its  law.  It 
concentrates  attention  upon  the  meaning  of  the  fact 
and  neglects  all  else.  It  neglects  all  the  diverse  and 
10* 


226 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


particular  elements  in  the  fact  so  as  to  separate  out  its 
universal  element,  and  thus  discover  the  law,  the  idea 
of  the  object. 

Effect  of  Each. — Induction,  or  analytic  reasoning, 
sees  the  law  in  the  light  of  the  fact ; deductive,  or  syn- 
thetic, sees  the  fact  in  the  light  of  the  law.  Induction 
is  more  abstract  than  deduction,  for  it  ends  in  the  dis- 
covery of  a general  relation  only,  while  deduction  goes 
back  to  the  fact  with  this  law,  and  adds  it  to  the  mean- 
ing of  the  fact,  thereby  making  it  concrete.  The  ulti- 
mate effect  of  deduction  is,  therefore,  greater  distinct- 
ness or  definiteness.  The  fact  which  has  been  con- 
nected with  a law  by  way  of  deduction  is  more  definite 
than  it  was  before;  it  is  transfigured  by  the  possession 
of  a new  property.  % Induction,  on  the  other  hand, 
tends  towards  identification.  It  makes  us  lose  sight  of 
the  differences  that  exist  between  this  and  that  stone, 
the  stone  and  the  bullet,  each  and  the  earth,  the  earth 
and  all  planets,  in  the  fact  that  all  are  falling  bodies 
and  come  under  the  same  law.  It  identifies  them. 

Each  Involves  the  Other. — We  saw,  when  studying 
attention,  that  the  distinguishing  and  identifying  activi- 
ties are  not  two  kinds  of  action,  but  different  aspects 
of  the  same  self-developing  activity  of  mind.  The 
same  is  true  of  induction  and  deduction.  In  the  first 
place,  each  leads  to  the  other.  Deduction  is  a synthetic 
activity,  yet  it  ends  in  rendering  its  object  more  dis- 
tinct, more  defined,  i.  e.,  more  separated.  Induction 
is  an  analytic  activity,  yet  it  ends  in  rendering  its  ob- 
ject more  unified,  more  identified  with  other  objects, 
i.  p.,  more  connected  with  them. 

This  is  because  induction  never  stops  with  itself,  but 
immediately  leads  to  deduction.  The  scientific  man  is 


THINKING. 


227 


not  content  with  the  general  statement  that  the  atomic 
weight  of  oxygen  is  16,  but  he  returns  with  this  gen- 
eral law  to  every  specific  chemical  fact  which  he  knows, 
thereby  enriching  them.  But  deduction  as  surely  im- 
plies induction.  The  fact  which  has  been  made  more 
specific  through  deduction  has  also  been  made  more 
universal.  It  does  not  possess  this  definite  property  as 
an  isolated  object,  but  as  one  of  a class,  as  having  a 
common  relation  or  law.  The  universal  is  detected  in 
the  particular,  and  this  is  induction.  Induction  and 
deduction  are  aspects  of  the  same  act,  and  each  occurs 
through  the  other. 

Example. — We  may  take,  to  illustrate  this  point, 
mathematics ; say  geometry.  This  is  ordinarily  taken 
as  the  type  of  a deductive  or  synthetic  science,  because 
it  advances  from  certain  highly  general  axioms  and 
definitions,  by  a process  of  construction,  to  highly  spe- 
cific and  definite  assertions  about  definite  relations,  or 
particular  forms  of  space,  each  new  step  being  derived 
or  deduced  from  the  preceding.  Yet  it  is  evident  that 
the  process  has  been,  at  the  same  time,  one  of  analy- 
sis. The  idea  of  space,  with  which  we  began,  was  a 
thoroughly  vague,  undefined  notion  ; the  development 
of  the  science  of  geometry  has  been  to  split  it  up  into 
definite  specific  relations.  We  know  a great  deal  more 
about  the  particulars  of  space  than  we  did  before.  We 
have  also  been  discovering,  in  every  element  of  space 
treated,  the  triangle,  the  circle,  certain  general  laws  or 
relations  exemplified ; and  this  is  the  essence  of  in- 
duction. 

Physics,  on  the  contrary,  is  generally  called  an  in- 
ductive science,  because  it  starts  from  the  investigation 
of  certain  facts,  and  ends  in  the  discovery  of  certain 


228 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


laws;  it  analyzes  the  facts  and  finds  certain  relations 
in  them.  Yet  it  is  also  a process  of  synthesis,  for  we 
not  only  know  the  laws,  but  we  know  immensely 
more  about  the  facts  than  we  did  before.  Each  fact 
is  more  distinct,  because  it  is  seen  exemplifying  the 
action  of  certain  laws,  or  involving  certain  relations, 
and  this  perception  of  a fact  in  the  light  of  a law  is 
the  essence  of  deduction.  Deduction  and  induction 
are,  in  truth,  two  aspects  of  the  same  process;  and  any 
given  method  will  be  called  one  or  the  other  from  the 
aspect  that  predominates. 

Fact  and  Law. — It  follows  that  the  two  elements 
of  law  and  fact  cannot  be  separated  from  each  other. 
Law  is  the  meaning  of  fact ; it  is  its  universal  as- 
pect; the  side  that  gives  it  relation.  It. is  necessary 
to  fact,  for  only  that  is  a fact  to  intelligence  which 
has  meaning,  which  signifies  something  or  points  be- 
yond itself.  Sensation,  as  mere  psychical  existence, 
does  not  constitute  fact.  A sensation,  as  such,  never 
enters  into  knowledge;  it  must  be  transformed,  that 
is,  related.  In  perception  and  memory  we  do  not,  it 
is  true,  recognize  the  presence  of  the  relation  or  uni- 
versal element ; we  do  not  see  what  it  is  that  is  pointed 
towards;  while  in  reasoning  we  do  bring  this  element 
of  significance  into  conscious  recognition,  and  see  that 
what  is  pointed  towards  is  a relation,  a law.  Every 
new  relation  or  law  that  is  discovered  adds  so  much 
to  the  meaning  of  the  fact ; it  makes  it  so  much  more 
of  a fact  for  us. 

Law,  on  the  other  hand,  has  no  existence  for  us  ex- 
cept in  connection  -with  some  fact.  When  out  of  all 
connection  with  fact,  it  is  absolutely  meaningless  to  us; 
it  is  pure  abstraction  ; and  just  in  the  degree  in  which  it 


THINKING. 


229 


is  brought  into  connection  with  fact  it  becomes  definite, 
and  hence  significant.  In  other  words,  fact  and  law 
are  abstract  ways  of  looking  at  the  same  mental  con- 
tent. When  we  abstract  its  particular  aspect,  its  defi- 
nite side,  we  regard  it  as  fact ; when  we  abstract  its 
universal  side,  its  relation  of  identity,  we  regard  it  as 
meaning  or  law.  But  every  concrete  mental  content, 
every  actuality  for  psychology,  is  a union  of  universal 
and  particular,  of  identity  and  difference,  of  fact  and 
meaning,  of  reality  and  ideal  significance.  It  is  not 
a mechanical  unity,  so  that  we  can  separate  out  each, 
but  a living  one. 

Process  of  Mind  in  Knowledge. — Fact  and  law  are 
not,  therefore,  to  be  opposed  to  the  activity  of  mind 
as  something'  set  over  against  it.  Each  is  rather  the 
result  of  one  function  of  the  mind’s  activity.  Fact 
and  law  cannot  be  regarded  as  anything  except  two 
ways  of  looking  at  the  same  content,  because  one  is 
the  expression  of  the  differentiating  activity  of  mind 
and  the  other  of  its  identifying  activity,  and  these  two 
modes  of  activity  cannot  be  separated  from  each  other. 
When  we  look  at  the  aspect  of  fact,  we  are  consider- 
ing the  result  of  the  distinguishing  function  of  mind  ; 
we  are  considering  the  content  as  rendered  definite  by 
the  possession  of  certain  particular  properties.  When 
we  look  at  the  aspect  of  law,  we  are  considering  the 
result  of  the  identifying  function  of  mind  ; we  are 
considering  the  content  as  rendered  universal  by  the 
possession  of  a mental  significance  or  idea.  Each  of 
these  functions  is  an  abstraction  ; in  actual  knowledge 
we  always  identify  and  distinguish.  In  other  words, 
all  actual  knowledge  proceeds  from  the  individual  to 
the  individual. 


230 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Conception , Judgment , Reasoning. — Judgment,  we 
have  already  seen,  stands  in  a twofold  relation  to  con- 
ception. In  one  aspect,  its  analytic,  it  is  based  on  the 
concept  and  develops  it ; in  the  other,  its  synthetic,  it 
returns  into  the  concept  and  enriches  it,  by  connecting 
some  new  element  with  it.  Reasoning,  it  is  now  seen, 
stands  in  a like  relation  to  judgment,  and  therefore  to 
conception.  It  is  based  on  judgment,  for  it  takes  two 
or  more  judgments,  that  is,  affirmations  of  relations, 
and  analyzes  them  to  discover  the  common  or  identical 
relation  which  unites  them.  And  it  expresses  this  in 
the  form  of  a new  judgment.  Thus,  Sir  Isaac  Newton 
took  two  judgments,  one  regarding  the  revolution  of 
the  moon,  and  another  regarding  a falling  body,  and, 
analyzing  them,  arrived  at  a relation  common  to  both  : 
he  reduced  both  judgments  to  one  in  the  new  judg- 
ment of  the  law  of  gravitation.  But  this  does  not  re- 
main an  isolated  judgment.  It  is  carried  back  to  the 
judgments  from  which  it  was  analyzed  out,  and  com- 
bined with  them,  so  that,  as  soon  as  we  know  the  law 
of  gravitation,  we  know  more  about  the  revolution  of 
the  moon  and  the  falling  of  bodies  than  we  did  before. 
In  short,  the  process  of  reasoning  has  resulted  in  the 
enrichment  of  the  judgment;  it  is  more  definite  and 
concrete  than  it  was  before. 

The  Individual  the  End  of  Knowledge. — All  knowl- 
edge is  therefore  of  an  individual.  There  are  two 
eleinents  which  cannot  of  themselves  be,  by  any  pos- 
sibility, the  object  of  knowledge ; one  is  the  isolated 
particular,  the  other  is  the  isolated  universal.  The 
isolated  particular  is  that  which  has  no  relation  to 
anything  beyond  itself ; it  is  not  universalized  by  any 
relation.  It  is  the  result  of  the  distinguishing  activity 


THINKING. 


231 


of  mind,  supposing  that  this  could  go  on  alone.  The 
isolated  universal  is  that  -which  is  simply  a relation  ; it 
is  not  made  definite  by  its  synthetic  reference  to  that 
which  is  related.  What  is  actually  known  is  always  a 
combination  of  the  universal  and  the  particular,  of  law 
and  fact ; in  other  words,  an  individual.  The  individ- 
ual known  is  becoming  constantly  a richer  object  of 
knowledge,  by  virtue  of  the  two  processes  of  univer- 
salization and  definition.  The  individual  known  is  al- 
ways becoming  more  universal  because  it  is  being  iden- 
tified with  other  individuals  under  some  common  rela- 
tion or  idea.  It  is  becoming  more  definite,  for  these 
various  relations  which  are  thus  recognized  are  taken 
into  it,  and  become  part  of  its  content ; they  enlarge  its 
significance  and  serve  to  distinguish  it.  A complete- 
ly universalized  or  related  individual,  which  is  at  the 
same  time  perfectly  definite  or  distinct  in  all  its  rela- 
tions, is,  therefore,  the  end  of  knowledge.  Each  spe- 
cial act  of  knowledge  is  the  recognition  of  an  indi- 
vidual which  is  yet  in  process  of  identification  and  dis- 
tinction. This  we  learned  is  the  process  of  attention 
(page  143). 

§ 5.  Systematization. 

Final  Presupposition. — It  is  now  evident  that  the 
very  tendency  towards  knowledge,  or  the  activity  of 
intelligence,  is  based  upon  relation.  It  presupposes 
that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  an  isolated  fact  in  the 
universe,  but  that  all  are  connected  with  each  other 
as  members  of  a common  whole.  The  final  presuppo- 
sition is  that  every  fact  is  dependent  or  mediated.  It 
is  not  what  it  is  by  its  own  independent  existence. 
Considered  as  such  it  has  no  meaning  whatever,  and 
hence  is  no  possible  object  of  intelligence.  Each  is 


232 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


what  it  is,  because  of  its  connection  with  and  depend- 
ence  upon  others.  Reasoning  is  the  act  of  mind  which 
recognizes  this  dependence,  and  develops  the  modes  of 
connection.  Rut  reasoning  confines  itself  to  the  special 
relations  which  connect  facts.  It  does  not  deal  with 
the  truth  that  all  these  relations  are  also  related  to  each 
other,  and  are  factors  of  one  harmonious  whole. 

Process  of  Systematization. — This  higher  develop- 
ment of  reasoning,  which  not  only  develops  relations 
of  dependence  between  one  fact  and  another,  but  which 
also  consciously  recognizes  that  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  an  isolated  relation,  but  that  all  constitute  a system, 
is  called  systematization.  It  is  in  result  what  we  call 
“ science  ” and  “ philosophy,”  which  are  not  only  knowl- 
edge, but  co-ordinated  knowledge  arranged  in  connect- 
ed form.  Each  special  branch  of  science  is  one  form  of 
this  attempt  at  harmonious  system.  Philosophy  is  the 
attempt  to  sytematize  or  arrange  in  their  organic  unity 
all  special  branches  of  science.  JSTo  isolated  science 
fulfils  the  end  of  knowledge  or  is  complete  system,  be- 
cause in  it  the  analytic  activity  predominates  over  the 
synthetic.  Science  in  its  completeness,  including  the 
synthetic  function,  is  philosophy. 

Scientific  and  Ordinary  Knowledge. — Science  is  the 
attempt  to  reduce  the  world  to  a unity,  by  seeing  ail 
the  factors  of  the  world  as  members  of  one  common 
system.  Its  various  subordinate  unities  are  expressed 
in  the  form  of  laws,  but  science  is  not  complete  with 
the  formulation  of  analytic  laws.  These  laws  must  not 
remain  isolated,  but  must  be  referred,  as  far  as  possi- 
ble, to  some  more  comprehensive  law,  and  thus  con- 
nected with  each  other  as  factors  of  one  whole.  The 
highest  form  of  knowledge  previously  studied — reason- 


THINKING. 


233 


ing — develops,  as  we  saw,  what  had  been  implied  in  all 
previous  knowledge — namely,  the  dependence  of  every 
fact  of  knowledge  upon  its  relations  to  other  facts. 
This  presupposition  of  all  knowing  whatever,  that  all 
facts  are  related  to  each  other  as  members  of  one  sys- 
tem, science  more  consciously  develops,  explicitly  set- 
ting forth  the  relations. 

Philosophic  Knowledge.  — Philosophy,  as  complete 
science,  aims  to  do  this  fully.  It  is,  therefore,  no  new 
kind  of  knowledge,  but  is  the  conscious  development 
of  what  is  unconsciously  at  the  heart  of  all  knowledge — 
the  presence  of  unity  in  variety.  It  is  the  attempt  to 
find  a true  universe  ; a world  which,  in  spite  of  its  dif- 
ference, or  rather  through  its  difference,  is  one.  It  is 
the  attempt  to  fulfil  the  conditions  of  all  knowledge, 
and  to  recognize  the  world  as  one  ; in  other  words,  to 
reach  an  individual  object  of  knowledge  which  is  at 
the  same  time  thoroughly  universal.  The  details  of 
philosophy  as  well  as  of  science  we  are  not  concerned 
with  in  psycholog}7.  We  have  only  to  recognize  them 
as  exemplifications  of  the  law  of  all  knowledge,  and 
thus  show  their  psychological  origin  and  position. 


Hamilton  (op.  cit.),  lects.  xxxiv.-xxxvii. ; Porter  (op.  cit.),  pp.  37G-491 ; 
Morell  (op.  cit.),  pp.  20-1-258;  Lewes  (op.  cit.),  Third  Series,  pt.  2,  p.  4G3; 
Bain  (op.  cit.),  pp.  524-538  ; Sully  (op.  cit.),  chaps,  ix.  and  x. ; Murray  (op. 
cit.),  pp.  185-219 ; Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  453-472 ; vol.  ii.,  pp.  6-17, 
521-538;  Taine  (op.  cit.),  pt.  1,  bk.  1,  chaps,  ii.  and  iii. ; Laurie,  “Metapliys- 
ica,”  pp.  27-34,  53-83  ; Bradley,  “Principles  of  Logic,”  pp.  1-39  (judgment); 
pp.  235-249,  396-411, 430-450  (reasoning) ; pp.  412-429  (analysis  and  synthe- 
sis); George  (op.  cit.),  pp.  400-453 ; Bergmann  (op.  cit.),  pp.  129-154 ; Her- 
bart  (op.  cit.),  pt.  3,  § 2,  chap.  ii. ; Striimpell  (op.  cit.),  pp.  252-265 ; Honvicz 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pt.  1,  pp.  9-55  ; Wundt,  “ Logik,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  37  - 131  (con- 
cepts); pp.  135-154  (judgment);  pp. 270-290  (reasoning);  Sigwart,  “Logik,” 
vol.  ii.,  pp.  15G-176  (concepts);  Lotze,  “Logik,”  pp.  14^57  (concepts);  “Phi- 
losophische  Studien,”  vol.  ii.,  p.  161. 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


231 

References  to  the  psychology  of  language  may  also  be  conveniently  made 
here  as  follows:  Calderwood,  “Relations  of  Mind  and  Brain,”  chap.  x. ; 
Maudsley  (op.  cit. ),  pp.  475-481;  Perrier  (op.  cit.),  pp.  269-280;  Lotze,  “Mi- 
crocosmus,”  pp.  601-639  ; Taine  in  Mind,  vol.  ii.,  p.  252;  Perez,  ‘‘First  Three 
Years,”  pp.  236-264  ; George  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  331-341  ; Rosenkranz  (op.  cit.'), 
pp.  283-295;  Michelet  (op.  cit.),  pp.  368-407 ; Steinthal  (op.  cit.),  pp.  44-71, 
359-487  ; Lazarus  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  87-345  ; Wundt,  “ Phys.  Psy."  vol.  ii., 
pp.  428-440 ; Preyer  (op.  cit.),  pp.  259-391 ; Gerber,  “ Die  Sprache  und  das 
Erkennen,”  Geiger,  “Ursprung  und  Entwickelung  der  mensclilichen  Sprache 
und  Yernunft;”  Kussmaul,  “Storungen  der  Sprache;”  Strieker,  “ Studien 
iiber  die  Sprachvorstellungen.”  Lazarus  and  Steinthal  are  the  best  authori- 
ties upon  the  purely  psychological  aspects  of  language. 

Upon  the  pedagogy  of  thinking,  see  De  Guimps  (op.  cit.),  pp.  264^334; 
Joly  (op.  cit.),  pp.  80-113 ; Thring  (op.  cit.),  pp.  155-164;  Perez  (op.  cit.), 
pp.  164-235  ; Beneke  (op.  cit.),  pp.  122-141. 


CHAPTER  IX 
INTUITION. 


Mutual  Implication  of  Stages  of  Knowledge. — The 
general  law  of  knowledge,  that  knowledge  is  a process 
of  recognition  of  the  individual  th  rough  the  f unctions 
of  analysis  and  of  synthesis,  is  applicable,  of  course,  to 
the  stages  of  knowledge  themselves,  or  rather  these 
are  so  many  manifestations  of  the  law.  If  we  begin, 
as  we  have  done  in  this  book,  with  perception  and 
ascend  to  systematization,  it  is  evident  that  we  fol- 
low the  analytic,  identifying,  or  universalizing  func- 
tion. But  attention  has  been  frequently  called  to  the 
fact  that  each  of  these  more  general  processes  returns 
upon  the  lower  and  enriches  it.  It  has  been  shown 
that  perception  is  as  impossible  without  conception,  or 
the  presence  of  the  universal  element,  as  conception  is 
without  perception  as  the  definite  element. 

Two  Scales  in  Knowing. — In  short,  every  higher 
analytic  stage  immediately  influences  the  lower  proc- 
ess, rendering  it  more  definite.  It  is  synthetically 
combined  with  it.  Every  process  o*f  reasoning  ex- 
pands a judgment;  every  judgment  enlarges  a con- 
cept; every  concept  adds  new  meaning  to  a percept. 
As  we  universalize,  we  also  see  the  particular  more  in 
the  light  of  the  universal,  and  thus  make  it  more  sig- 
nificant and  more  definite.  Without  the  process  of  me- 
diation or  reasoning  there  is  no  perception  ; the  more 
the  element  of  reasoning  is  involved,  the  more  does  the 


236  ' 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


percept  mean,  or  tell  us  of  the  object.  There  is  a com- 
plete implication  of  every  stage  of  self-development  in 
every  other.  The  scale  from  perception  to  systematiza- 
tion looks  at  the  development  as  an  analytic  process  of 
growing  universality;  the  scale  from  systematization 
back,  looks  at  it  as  a synthetic  process  of  growing  defi- 
niteness. As  matter  of  actual  psychological  fact,  there 
is  no  separation  of  ascending  and  descending  move- 
ments, but  every  concrete  act  of  mind  is  an  act  both  of 
perception  and  reasoning,  and  each  because  of  and 
through  the  other.  This  is  but  another  way  of  saying 
that  all  knowledge  involves  both  the  identifying  and 
the  distinguishing  activities. 

Intuition. — It  follows,  in  a word,  that  every  con- 
crete, actually-performed  psychological  result  is  an  in- 
tuition, or  knowledge  of  an  individual.  The  acts  pre- 
viously studied  are  abstractions.  It  is  necessary  to 
perform  these  abstractions  in  order  that  the  various 
elements  involved  in  knowledge  may  be  brought  into 
consciousness,  and  our  comprehension  of  the  nature  of 
knowledge  become  more  definite.  What  we  call  per- 
ception is  a concrete  act  of  mind  involving  both  the 
universalizing  and  the  distinguishing  activities;  but 
all  the  weight,  the  emphasis  of  attention,  is  thrown 
upon  the  latter  function.  In  reasoning,  attention  iso- 
lates especially* the  universalizing  function;  but,  as 
matter  of  fact,  neither  of  these  can  exist  without  the 
other,  and  their  union  constitutes  knowledge  of  an 
individual.  The  phase  of  reasoning  makes  this  indi- 
vidual more  .and  more  universal  or  related  in  charac- 
ter; the  phase  of  perception  makes  it  more  definite. 
The  union  of  perception  and  reasoning  involved  in 
every  act  constitutes  intuition. 


INTUITION. 


237 


Nature  of  Intuition. — Intuition  is  often  conceived 
to  mean  a purely  immediate  act,  or  one  taking  place 
without  the  recognition  of  any  relation  of  dependence. 
Intuition  is  defined  in  a way  which  opposes  it  to  rea- 
soning and  excludes  the  latter.  It  is  thought  to  be  an 
act  of  mind  in  which  the  mind  is  wholly  taken  up  with 
the  presented  content,  and  does  not  advance  at  all  be- 
yond what  is  thus  given  ; it  is  opposed  to  all  mediation. 
Something  perceived  by  intuition  is  supposed  to  be 
just  what  it  is  by  virtue  of  its  own  independent  exist- 
ence. We  are  in  a position  to  recognize  that  there 
cannot  possibly  be  intuition  of  such  a kind.  Every 
act  of  mind  involves  relation  ; it  involves  dependence; 
it  involves  mediation.  A thing  as  known  gets  its 
meaning  by  its  symbolism  ; by  what  it  points  to  be- 
yond itself.  Intuition  must  be  defined  to  include  this 
factor. 

Ultimate  Knowledge. — When,  however,  we  come  to 
know  ultimate  reality,  it  is  evident  that  this  cannot  be 
related  to  anything  beyond  itself;  it  can  symbolize 
only  itself.  All  dependence,  all  mediation,  must  be 
within  itself.  Intuition  is  most  properly  confined  to 
those  acts  of  knowledge,  therefore,  in  which  we  know 
ultimate  wholes ; that  which  is  related  to  self  instead 
of  being  only  externally  related.  It  is  needful  to  recog- 
nize that  such  wholes  exist  only  by  virtue  of  the  dis- 
tinctions, the  relations,  which  are  comprehended  with- 
in themselves.  The  analytic  act,  the  development  of 
relations  of  identity,  has  been  completely  performed, 
and  these  relations  are  now  reflected  back  into  the  ob- 
ject, and,  synthetically  connected  with  it,  serve  com- 
pletely to  distinguish  it,  or  make  it  definite.  In  the 
act  of  intuition  we  grasp  that  which  is  self-related. 


238 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Stages  of  Intuition. — Every  act  of  knowledge  is,  in 
some  sense  or  other,  the  recognition  of  something  self- 
related,  or  an  individual,  for  it  involves  the  synthetic 
return  of  the  relation  into  the  content  known.  Percep- 
tion, memory,  imagination,  conception,  etc. — each  of 
these  is  an  act  of  intuition,  and  consequently  the  recog- 
nition of  something  self-related.  But  the  recognition  of 
self-relation  may  be  more  or  less  complete.  The  bota- 
nist’s knowledge  of  a tree  is  more  intuitive  than  that  of 
an  ordinary  man,  because  he  sees  in  it  more  of  those  re- 
lations to  the  universe  which  constitute  the  real  life  of 
the  tree.  Recognizing  more  relations,  more  laws,  he  is 
able  to  combine  more  into  the  knowledge  of  the  object, 
and  thus  his  knowledge  of  it  includes  more  of  self-re- 
lation than  that  of  any  one  else.  So  of  all  objects ; the 
more  universality  is  recognized,  the  more  truly  self-re- 
lated does  the  object  known  become.  We  again  arrive 
at  the  conclusion  that,  while  every  concrete  act  of  knowl- 
edge is  one  of  intuition,  the  term  may  be  most  appro- 
priately applied  to  the  most  developed  acts  of  knowl- 
edge ; those,  that  is  to  say,  in  which  the  greatest  amount 
of  individualized  or  synthetic  universality  is  recog- 
nized. These  may  be  spoken  of  under  three  heads: 
I.  Intuition  of  the  world;  II.  Intuition  of  self;  III. 
Intuition  of  God. 

I.  Intuition  of  the  World. — We  are  concerned  here 
with  our  knowledge  of  nature  as  a whole.  After  what 
has  been  said  so  many  times,  there  is  no  need  of  repeat- 
ing that  since  unity  is  presupposed  in  every  act  of  in- 
telligence, every  act  of  knowledge  of  the  external  world 
is  an  intuition.  The  wholeness  of  the  world,  the  truth 
that  all  things  and  events  are  in  unison  with  each  oth- 
er, is  implied  in  the  simplest  perception,  and  the  fur- 


INTUITION. 


239 


ther  acts  of  knowledge  consist  only  in  developing  this 
unity  and  rendering  it  explicit  and  definite.  The  intu- 
ition of  which  we  are  to  speak,  the  recognition  of  nat- 
ure as  a system,  is  not,  therefore,  a new  act  of  knowl- 
edge, but  simply  the  more  complete  development  of 
perception,  memory,  etc.,  which  are  also  acts  of  intui- 
tion. "We  shall  speak  first  of  the  process  of  this  more 
complete  development. 

Grovrth  of  Intuition  of  Nature. — It  begins  with  the 
recognition  of  things.  The  first  intuition  is  that  of 
existence  or  reality.  We  recognize  that  we  not  only 
have  sensations,  but  that  these  sensations  are  objec- 
tified, and  constitute  a world.  The  first  stage  of  in- 
tuition may  be  said  to  be  that  there  is  such  a thing  as 
an  object,  a world  at  all,  giving  rise  to  the  conception 
of  substance.  But  the  mind  immediately  advances  be- 
yond this  highly  general  intuition  to  a recognition 
that  the  plurality  of  objects  and  events  which  are  real, 
or  exist,  are  in  space  and  time.  The  intuition  of  space, 
as  the  condition  of  the  coexistence  of  objects,  and  the 
intuition  of  time  as  the  condition  of  the  sequence  of 
events,  constitute  the  more  perfect  definition  of  the 
intuition  of  reality. 

Second  Stage. — There  comes,  then,  the  intuition  of 
force  or  motion.  We  recognize  that  objects  are  not 
only  separated  in  space  and  time,  but  that  they  are  in 
dynamic  relations  with  each  other;  that  they  are  con- 
stantly exchanging  places  in  space,  and  passing  into 
each  other  in  time.  We  have  an  intuition  not  only  of 
space  and  time,  but  of  that  spatial  change  which  we 
call  motion,  and  of  that  temporal  change  which  we  call 
force.  From  these  intuitions  the  mind  forms  the  con- 
ception of  cause  and  effect. 


240 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Third  Stage. — The  mind  advances  beyond  the  rec- 
ognition of  change  to  the  recognition  of  the  regular- 
ity, the  constancy,  of  change.  It  perceives  that  all  spa- 
tial changes  are  connected  with  temporal  changes — that 
is,  manifestations  of  force — and  it  further  recognizes 
that  these  manifestations  are  connected  with  each  other 
in  an  orderly,  permanent  way.  It  thus  gets  the  in- 
tuition of  order,  or  relation.  From  this  intuition  the 
mind  forms  the  conception  of  law.  It  is  evident  that 
each  stage  of  intuition  grasps  something  more  of  the 
wholeness  of  the  world,  and  renders  that  wholeness 
more  definite.  In  the  intuition  of  thing,  or  reality, 
each  appears  separate  from  every  other,  though  we 
know  that  their  unity  is  implied.  In  the  intuition  of 
space  and  time  we  recognize  space  and  time  as  one, 
indeed,  but  we  do  not  recognize  the  necessary  unity 
of  each  with  the  objects  and  events  existing  and  occur- 
ring in  it.  The  intuitions  of  force  and  motion  enable 
us  to  make  this  unification,  and  see  nature  more  as  a 
whole ; and  if  we  add  the  intuition  of  relation,  we  see 
all  parts  interconnected. 

Final  Stage. — This  originates  the  final  stage  of  intu- 
ition. Here  we  have  the  intuition  of  reality  as  a whole, 
defined  and  particularized  indeed  by  its  existence  in 
space  and  time,  but  yet  universalized  by  its  connec- 
tions of  order  and  permanence,  expressed  in  the  laws 
which  constitute  its  unity.  Here  every  fact  is  seen  as 
dependent  upon  and  necessitated  by  its  relations  to 
every  fact.  The  aim  is  to  see  in  every  part  of  nature 
the  law  of  the  whole ; to  see  exemplified  in  any  fact 
the  relations  of  the  whole  system.  It  finds  a poetical 
expression  in  the  following  lines  of  Tennyson: 


INTUITION. 


241 


“ Flower  in  the  crannied  wall, 

I pluck  you  out  of  the  crannies; — 

Hold  you  here,  root  and  all,  in  my  hand, 

Little  flower — but  if  I could  understand 
What  you  are,  root  and  all,  all  in  all, 

I should  know  what  God  and  man  is.” 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  is  truly  an  intuition, 
for  we  see  in  the  part  the  whole.  This  constitutes  its 
difference  from  systematization.  For  complete  intui- 
tion, that  activity  of  the  mind  implied  in  science  and 
philosophy  is  doubtless  necessary,  but  systematization 
is  not  intuition.  It  is  only  the  highest  means  by  which 
the  original  intuition,  knowledge  of  an  individual  thing, 
becomes  complete  intuition,  or  knowledge  of  the  uni- 
verse as  an  individual.  It  is  only  necessary  to  add  that 
from  this  intuition  of  completeness  of  interdependence, 
the  mind  forms  the  conception  of  necessity. 

Transition  to  Intuition  of  Self . — It  must  be  noticed 
that,  as  the  growth  of  intuition  of  nature  towards  com- 
pleteness occurs,  we  approach  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
self.  Each  new  stage  comprehends  within  itself  a more 
universal  relation  than  the  preceding,  and  hence  leads 
more  nearly  to  the  recognition  of  the  action  of  intelli- 
gence. In  the  intuition  of  things , and  even  of  space 
and  time,  what  is  perceived  seems  opposed  to  intelli- 
gence (page  161) ; when  we  perceive  order,  we  are,  in 
truth,  perceiving  the  ordering  action  of  intelligence ; 
when  we  perceive  the  world  as  an  interdependent  whole, 
every  part  of  which  is  in  orderly  connection  with  every 
other,  we  are  perceiving  objectified  intelligence ; for 
this  unification  of  relations  is  precisely  the  work  of  in- 
telligence. Or,  put  in  a more  psychological  way,  this 
intuition  of  the  whole  in  a part  is  the  recognition  of  all 
11 


242 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


that  the  part  means , and  meaning  is  put  into  fact  from 
the  activity  of  the  self  (page  142).  We  are  thus  led  to 

II.  The  Intuition  of  Self  . — We  are  concerned  here 
especially  with  what  is  called  self-consciousness,  or  the 
knowledge  of  the  self  as  a universal,  permanent  activ- 
ity. We  must,  however,  very  carefully  avoid  supposing 
that  self-consciousness  is  a new  and  particular  kind  of 
knowledge.  The  self  which  is  the  object  of  intuition 
is  not  an  object  existing  ready  made,  and  needing  only 
to  have  consciousness  turned  to  it,  as  towards  other  ob- 
jects, to  be  known  like  them  as  a separate  object.  The 
recognition  of  self  is  only  the  perception  of  what  is 
involved  in  every  act  of  knowledge.  The  self  which  is 
known  is,  as  we  saw  in  our  study  of  apperception  and  re- 
tention, the  whole  body  of  knowledge  as  returned  to  and 
organized  into  the  mind  knowing.  The  self  which  is 
known  is,  in  short,  the  ideal  side  of  that  mode  of  in- 
tuition of  which  we  just  spoke — it  is  their  meaning  in 
its  unity.  It  is,  also,  a more  complete  stage  of  intui- 
tion, for,  while  in  the  final  stage  of  intuition  of  nature 
we  perceive  it  as  a whole  of  interdependent  relations, 
or  as  self-related,  we  have  yet  to  recognize  that  we 
leave  out  of  account  the  intelligence  from  which  these 
relations  proceed.  In  short,  its  true  existence  is  in  its 
relation  to  mind  ; and  in  self-consciousness  we  advance 
to  the  perception  of  mind. 

Stages  of  Growth  of  Intuition  of  Self  . — The  self  is 
a connecting,  relating  activity,  and  hence  is  a real 
unity,  one  which  unites  into  a whole  all  the  various 
elements  and  members  of  our  knowledge.  In  associa- 
tion and  in  attention  it  is  the  activit}'  of  mind  which 
associates  and  which  attends,  and  thus  only  does  our 
mental  life  become  significant  in  its  products  (page  85). 


INTUITION. 


243 


J The  self  is  consequently  the  bond  of  unity.  There  is  no 
member  of  our  psychical  life,  no  object  of  knowledge, 
which  is  not  such  because  the  self  has  acted  upon  it,  and 
made  it  wdiat  it  is.  All  knowledge  is  knowledge  of  and 
through  self.  In  knowing  anything  whatever  we  know 
some  activity  of  self,  and  therefore  all  knowledge  is  an 
intuition  of  self,  just  as  it  is  an  intuition  of  the  world. 
But  in  the  first  stages  of  knowledge  this  is  not  recog- 
nized. We  recognize  only  meaning  or  significance , 
without  recognizing  where  it  comes  from — the  mind. 
The  first  intuition  may  be  called  that  of  ideality , as 
opposed  to  reality  in  the  intuition  of  the  world;  it  is 
.meaning  as  opposed  to  thing.  The  mind,  on  the  basis 
[of  it,  forms  the  conception  of  unity  and  universality . 

Final  Stage.-— The  development  of  the  intuition  of 
self  consists  simply  in  recognizing  more  and  more  of 
what  is  implied  in  the  simplest  acts  of  knowledge.  The 
activity  of  self  is  involved,,  in  perception.  In  memory 
some  of  this  activity,  that  by  which  elements  are  re- 
lated in  time,  is  re-cognized.  We  re-know  what  we 
knew  before,  and  in  so  doing  develop  some  factor  of 
which  we  were  previously  unconscious.  There  is  no 
need  to  follow  the  process  through  in  detail,  but  it  is 
evident  that  every  higher  “ faculty  ” in  re-knowing  the 
lower,  brings  out  more  and  more  of  the  activity  of  the 
self  implied  in  it,  until  we  get  to  complete  self-con- 
sciousness, which  is  the  recognition  of  the  whole  of 
self  in  any  special  act  of  self.  From  the  intuition  of 
self  we  form  the  conception  of  freedom,  as  we  recognize 
that  the  process  is  one  which  goes  on  through  self  alone. 

Transition  to  Intuition  of  God. — There  is  no  knowl- 
edge which  does  not  include  both  the  particular  and 
the  universal  factor.  There  is  no  knowledge  which 


211 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


does  not  include  both  the  real  and  the  ideal  element. 
In  the  two  previous  intuitions  we  have  treated  each  as 
if  it  could  exist  independent  of  the  other,  though  we 
saw  that  intuition  of  the  world,  as  a unity  of  interde- 
pendent relations,  implies  the  self.  We  know,  also, 
that  knowledge  of  the  self  would  be  entirely  without 
content  were  it  not  for  the  acts  of  apperception  which 
it  is  always  performing,  and  which,  when  performed, 
are  retained  or  organized  into  the  self  (page  152),  and 
thus  make  it  real.  In  short,  we  know  the  world  be- 
cause we  idealize  it ; we  know  the  self  because  we  real- 
ize it.  Every  concrete  act  of  knowledge  must  involve 
both  factors.  This  brings  us  to  the  complete  stage  of 
intuition. 

III.  Intuition  of  God. — Neither  the  world  nor  the 
knowing  self  can  be  called  truly  self  - related.  The 
world  gets  its  existence  as  known  only  because  of  its  re- 
lations to  the  activity  of  the  intelligence  knowing;  the 
intelligence  knowing  becomes  a definite  actuality  only 
through  the  relations  which  it  puts  forth  in  construing 
the  world.  The  true  self-related  must  be  the  organic 
unity  of  the  self  and  the  world,  of  the  ideal  and  the 
real,  and  this  is  what  we  know  as  God.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  this  intuition  is  one  like  in  kind  to 
the  other  intuitions,  and  involves  the  process  of  medi- 
ation as  much  as  they.  It  is  not  a unity  which  has 
no  relations,  but  a unity  which  is  self-related.  It  must 
be  remembered,  also,  that  we  are  speaking  wholly  here 
of  an  intellectual  intuition,  which  is  simply  perfectly 
realized  intelligence  or  truth. 

Development  of  Intuition. — Every  concrete  act  of 
knowledge  involves  an  intuition  of  God ; for  it  in- 
volves a unity  of  the  real  and  the  ideal,  of  the  objec- 


INTUITION. 


245 


tive  and  the  subjective.  Stated  in  another  way,  every 
act  of  knowledge  is  a realization  of  intelligence  ; an 
attainment  of  some  relation  which  constitutes  truth. 
The  development  of  this  intuition  is  the  recognition 
of  complete  truth,  the  perfect  unification  of  intelli- 
gence. The  steps  of  the  process  are  precisely  the  proc- 
ess of  intelligence  itself  in  knowledge;  and  as  that 
is  just  what  we  have  been  studying  in  this  psychol- 
ogy, it  need  not  be  repeated  here.  It  needs  only  to  be 
recognized  that  every  act  of  knowledge  is  an  intuition 
of  truth,  and  that  the  goal  of  all  knowledge  is  the 
complete  intuition  of  truth,  and  that  this  truth  is 
the  complete  manifestation  of  the  unifying  and  distin- 
guishing activities  of  the  intelligence.  All  failure  to 
grasp  truth,  or  statement  that  ultimate  reality  is  un- 
knowable, consists  simply  in  laying  emphasis  upon  one 
of  these  processes  to  the  exclusion  of  the  other.  It  is 
the  intuition  of  God  as  perfectly  realized  intelligence 
that  forms  the  cognitive  side  of  the  religious  conscious- 
ness. It  is  the  most  concrete  and  developed  form  of 
knowledge  ; but  it  is,  at  the  same  time,  implied  or  in- 
volved in  every  act  of  knowledge  whatever.  There  is 
more  truth,  in  short,  implied  in  the  simplest  form  of 
knowledge  than  can  be  brought  out  by  our  completest 
science  or  philosophy.  These  latter  are  processes  of 
systematization,  and  find  their  function  in  enriching 
the  primal  and  the  ultimate  intuition. 


Upon  intuition  and  self-consciousness,  see  Spencer  (op.  tit.},  vol.  ii.,  pp.  454- 
488;  Wundt,  “Phys.  Psy.”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  216-218;  StrUmpell  (op.  tit.},  pp.  294- 
309 ; Erdmann  (op.  tit.},  chap.  ii. ; Horwicz  (op.  cit.},  vol.  ii.,  pt.  1,  pp.  122- 
129  ; Ulrici  (op.  tit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  43-66 ; George  (op.  cit.},  pp.  341-351 ; Berg- 
mann  (op.  cit.),  pp.  54-91;  Ribot,  “Maladies  de  la  Personnalite;”  Jeanmaire, 
“ L’ldee  de  la  Personnalite  dans  la  Psychologie  Moderne.” 


PART  II.— FEELING. 


CHAPTER  X. 

INTRODUCTION  TO  FEELING. 

Nature  of  Feeling. — Feeling,  it  is  to  be  remembered, 
signifies  not  a special  class  of  psychical  facts,  like  mem- 
ory or  conception,  but  one  side  of  all  mental  phenom- 
ena. It  is  not  a particular  group  of  psychical  experi- 
ences, occurring  nowand  then  in  our  mental  life ; it  is 
coextensive  with  mental  life;  it  is  its  internal  aspect. 
All  knowledge  occurs  in  the  medium  of  feeling,  for  in 
knowing  we  render  internal,  or  make  belong  to  our 
consciousness,  something  which  exists  in  the  universe. 
In  knowledge  we  do  not  pay  attention,  indeed,  to  this 
internal  factor,  but  to  the  information  that  we  get 
about  something  existing.  The  very  fact,  however, 
that  we  regard  this  knowledge  as  our  knowledge,  that 
we  refer  it  to  ourselves  as  subjects,  shows  that  it  is 
also  feeling.  There  is  no  consciousness  which  exists 
as  wholly  objectified,  that  is,  without  connection  with 
some  individual.  There  is,  in  other  words,  no  con- 
sciousness which  is  not  feeling. 

Feeling  and  the  Individual  Self. — Every  conscious- 
ness is  felt  as  my  consciousness.  This  is  feeling.  It 
is  feeling  that  constitutes  the  essential  difference  be- 
tween me  and  thee.  We  cannot  define  the  u ego’’’’  as 
that  which  is  at  once  subject  and  object,  for  this  is  true 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FEELING. 


247 


of  every  ego.  It  gives  us  the  universal  form  of  self- 
hood, but  does  not  give  any  ground  for  distinction  be- 
tween myself  and  thyself.  Knowledge  affords  no 
ground  for  this  distinction,  for  knowledge  is  of  the 
object,  and  is  universal.  Knowledge  is,  indeed,  re- 
garded as  my  knowledge  or  as  your  knowledge,  but 
this  is  because  of  the  existence  of  the  self.  It  cannot 
constitute  that  self.  Feeling  is,  however,  unique  and 
unsharable.  Feeling  expresses  the  fact  that  all  is  not 
purely  objective  and  universal,  but  that  it  also  exists  in 
individual  and  subjective  form.  Feeling  cannot  be 
defined.  For  the  very  good  reason  that  it  is  individ- 
ual and  particular,  it  can  only  be  felt.  But  it  may 
be  characterized  again  by  saying  that  feeling  is  the  in- 
teresting side  of  all  consciousness;  consciousness  in  its 
unique  personal  reference  to  me  or  thee. 

Feeling  and  Activity  of  Self  . — Feeling,  or  the  fact 
of  interest,  is  therefore  as  wide  as  the  whole  realm  of 
self,  and  self  is  as  wide  as  the  whole  realm  of  experi- 
ence. To  determine  the  forms  and  conditions  of  feel- 
ing we  must  blow  something  about  self.  Self  is,  as 
we  have  so  often  seen,  activity.  It  is  not  something 
which  acts ; it  is  activity.  All  feeling  must  be  an  ac- 
companiment, therefore,  of  activity.  Through  its  ac- 
tivity, the  soul  is;  and  feeling  is  the  becoming  con- 
scious of  its  own  being.  The  soul  exists  for  itself  ; it 
takes  an  interest  in  itself  \ and  itself  is  constituted  by 
activities.  This  is  all  that  can  be  said  in  a general  way 
about  feeling.  But  the  activity  may  be  in  two  directions, 
and  there  may  be  consequently  two  kinds  of  interest. 
The  activity  may  further  or  develop  the  self;  it  may 
hinder  or  retard  it.  The  interest  may  be  one  oi pleas- 
ure or  of  pain.  Between  these  poles  all  feeling  moves. 


218 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


The  Source  of  Qualitative  Feelings. — Pleasurable 
feeling  is  the  rendering  manifest  to  the  soul  its  own 
activity  in  a direction  tending  to  increase  of  well-being, 
or  self-realization;  painful  feeling,  the  reverse.  We 
have  seen  before  that  self  is  not  a mere  formal  exist- 
ence, that  is,  one  having  no  necessary  connection  with 
the  material  with  which  it  deals,  and  with  the  results 
which  it  produces;  but  it  is  a real  activity,  that  is  to 
say,  one  with  a content.  The  various  spheres  of  expe- 
rience are  only  so  many  differentiations  or  develop- 
ments of  the  real  nature  of  the  self.  The  self,  through 
its  retentive  activity,  is  constantly  organizing  itself 
in  certain  definite,  explicit  forms,  and  only  as  it  does 
thus  organize  itself  is  it  anything  more  than  mere  ca- 
pacity. It  follows,  therefore,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  pain  or  pleasure  in  general , any  more  than 
there  is  such  a thing  as  color  in  general.  Every  feel- 
ing has  a definite  content  which  distinguishes  it  from 
every  other  feeling,  over  and  above  the  mere  fact  of 
pleasure  and  pain  ; just  as  red  is  distinguished  from 
blue  by  a quality  over  and  above  the  mere  fact  that 
both  are  colors.  Every  activity  of  the  self,  in  other 
words,  has  a definite  filling  or  quality  quite  distinct 
from  every  other;  and  feeling,  as  the  accompaniment 
of  this  activity,  or  rather  as  its  immediate  presence  in 
consciousness,  must  be  differentiated  also. 

Treatment  of  Feelings. — All  feeling  is  the  individual 
side  of  the  activity  of  self.  The  activity  of  self  devel- 
ops itself  in  an  infinity  of  directions,  and  with  an  in- 
finity of  contents.  These  are  the  facts  upon  which  we 
have  to  base  our  discussion.  None  the  less,  the  activi- 
ties may  be  reduced  to  a few  general  heads,  and  thus 
a basis  of  treatment  discovered.  The  quality  or  con- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  FEELING. 


219 


tent  of  feeling  is  evidently  determined  by  the  degree 
of  the  development  or  realization  of  self,  and  we  may 
recognize  as  many  classes  of  feeling  as  we  distinguish 
degrees  of  activity  of  self-realization  in  the  soul.  The 
self,  taken  in  its  lowest  terms,  is  the  organic  body,  fit- 
ted out  with  a nervous  system,  and  capable  of  respond- 
ing to  physical  stimuli,  through  its  connection  with 
soul,  in  the  form  of  sensations.  (I.)  The  first  class  of 
feelings  will  be  those  accompanying  this  organic  activ- 
ity of  self,  or  sensuous  feelings.  The  mind  also  ap- 
pears as  associative  activity,  or  as  mechanically  com- 
bining the  various  elements  of  its  experience,  as  well 
as  an  attentive  activity  which  idealizes  them,  and  gives 
them  their  especial  significance.  The  next  two  classes 
of  feeling  might,  witli  great  propriety,  be  made  to  con- 
form to  these  two  kinds  of  feeling,  but  it  is  more  con- 
venient to  adopt  a cross  division.  In  both  associative 
and  attentive  activities  there  are  feelings  which  are 
due  to  the  relations  which  the  activities  bear  to  each 
other,  and  there  are  those  which  are  due  more  espe- 
cially to  the  contents  with  which  they  are  concerned. 
This  gives  rise  to  (II.)  Formal  feelings,  and  (III.)  Qual- 
itative feelings,  of  which  we  shall  consider  (1)  the  aes- 
thetic, (2)  the  intellectual,  and  (3)  the  personal  and 
moral. 

11* 


CHAPTER  XL 
SENSUOUS  FEELING. 

Nature. — The  first  and  simplest  form  in  which  the 
soul  puts  forth  its  activity  is  through  the  physical  or- 
ganism. Feeling  is  the  internal  or  individual  side  of 
all  activity,  and  here  it  appears  as  rendering  internal 
the  organic  processes.  For  physiology  the  organism 
is  an  external  body,  existing  with  each  part  distinct 
from  every  other  in  space.  In  feeling,  this  externality 
and  separation  are  overcome.  If  the  eye  sees,  the 
whole  organism  feels  the  experience ; if  the  hand  is 
bruised,  or  if  the  digestive  apparatus  does  not  work 
normally,  through  feeling  the  entire  man  is  made'  con- 
scious of  it.  Each  action  and  reaction  has  a unique 
reference  to  the  whole  self.  "VVe  have  now  to  analyze 
the  forms  of  this  class  of  feeling. 

Sensation  as  Feeling. — Every  sensation,  considered 
in  itself,  is  a feeling.  We  have  previously  considered 
sensations  as  stimuli  to  the  apperceptive  activity,  and 
hence  as  resulting  in  knowledge ; and  they  are  rightly 
so  considered.  But  a sensation  is  none  the  less  itself 
an  intrinsic  affection  of  the  soul,  possessing  a peculiar 
emotive  quality  of  its  own.  An  infant,  we  may  sup- 
pose, has  sensations  long  before  he  has  knowledge; 
there  are  affections  of  his  eye  and  ear,  etc.,  before  he 
recognizes  colored  or  sounding  objects.  Such  sensa- 
tions have  an  existence  very  similar,  we  may  suppose, 


SENSUOUS  FEELINGS. 


251 


to  onr  own  digestive  sensations.  They  are  feelings. 
When  these  sensations  become  objectified,  they  do  not 
cease  to  be  feelings  ; and  their  characteristics  are  found 
to  depend  (1)  on  intensity,  and  (2)  upon  quality. 

1.  Dependence  of  Feeling  on  Intensity.  — Pleasure 
and  pain  have  certain  quantitative  aspects.  Any  sensa- 
tion intensified  beyond  a certain  point  becomes  painful. 
Almost  all  sensations  lowered  below  a certain  point 
become  painful.  Between  these  limits  a sensation  is 
agreeable,  and  at  a given  point  it  seems  to  reach  a 
maximum  of  agreeableness.  An  obscurity  which  is 
neither  light  nor  dark — one  which  calls  forth  a slight 
sensation,  and  yet  one  which  cannot  be  defined — is 
painful.  Exceedingly  strong  light,  as  that  of  the  sun, 
is  also  painful.  Yet,  between  these  limits,  light  is  grate- 
ful and  pleasing.  A feeble  whisper  or  rustle  is  irri- 
tating; a loud  bang  is  offensive.  Between  these  limits 
sound  delights  the  soul  and  is  sought  for.  There  is 
pleasure  in  mere  seeing  and  hearing,  independent  of 
what  is  seen  or  heard,  when  the  stimulus  is  of  a cer- 
tain intensity.  In  tactual  impressions,  varying  from 
tickling  to  abrasion,  the  same  law  is  illustrated.  In  the 
temperature  sense  it  is  illustrated  in  the  progression 
from  cold  through  genial  warmth  to  extreme  heat. 

The  Place  of  the  Limits.- — The  position  of  the  limits 
is  fixed  by  the  fact  that  a stimulus  which  occasions  pain 
is  either  too  slight  to  allow  the  sense  to  respond  nor- 
mally, or  is  so  great  that  it  calls  forth  so  much  activity 
of  the  organism  that  it  exhausts  the  latter  or  actually 
destroys  some  part  of  it.  The  moderate  stimulus  which 
gives  pleasure  lies  within  the  bounds  of  possible  easy 
adjustment  without  excess  of  activity.  The  stimulus 
calls  forth  a ready  response,  and  one  which  does  not 


252 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


make  too  much  demand  on  the  organism.  A very 
slight  stimulus  leaves  the  soul  in  a divided  state.  It 
calls  the  mind  out  towards  itself,  and  yet  it  does  not 
offer  sufficient  inducement  to  be  actually  responded 
to.  A very  strong  stimulus  calls  forth  the  reserve 
strength  of  the  organism  to  meet  it,  and,  making  ex- 
cessive demands,  drains  the  system.  Exceedingly  ir- 
regular stimuli  call  forth  futile  attempts  at  adjustment, 
and  energy  is  wasted.  All  such  forms  occasion  pain, 
while  freer  moderate  play  is  pleasurable.  This  is  what 
we  should  expect  from  the  theory.  Normal  or  healthy 
activity  furthers  the  organism ; other,  destroys  or  re- 
tards it.  It  should  be  noticed,  also,  that  the  greatest 
amount  of  pleasure  seems  to  be  given  at  that  point  of 
the  intensity  of  the  sensation  which  is  most  conducive 
to  clear  discrimination,  thus  affording  a basis  in  feel- 
ing for  the  best  workings  of  the  differentiating  func- 
tion of  intelligence. 

Duration  of  Sensation. — Connected  with  the  inten- 
sity of  a sensation  may  be  considered  its  duration.  There 
seems  to  be  a natural  rhythm  or  ebb  and  flow  of  feel- 
ing, independent  of  all  the  processes  operating  upon  it. 
Physical  activity  seems  to  discharge  itself  in  alternating 
pulses.  Very  short  and  rapid  stimuli  interfere  with 
this  regular  recovery  and  loss,  and  are  unpleasant; 
while  the  same  sensation,  long  prolonged  without 
change,  whether  of  pleasure  or  pain,  becomes  dead- 
ened. A stimulus  enduring  just  long  enough  for  the 
mind  to  respond  adequately  to  it,  and  then  giving  away, 
without  too  abrupt  change,  to  another,  seems  to  afford 
the  maximum  amount  of  pleasure. 

2.  Dependence  of  Feeling  on  Quality. — Feeling  is, 
however,  much  more  than  a matter  of  bare  pleasure  or 


SENSUOUS  FEELING. 


253 


pain.  Feelings  differ  qualitatively  or  in  their  content 
according  to  the  quality  of  the  sensation.  The  organic 
sensations,  as  we  saw  when  studying  them,  have  much 
greater  value  for  the  emotional  life  than  for  the  cogni- 
tive ; and  in  general  it  may  be  said  that  the  more  value 
a sensation  has  for  knowledge,  the  less  it  has  for  feel- 
ing directly.  Thus  sensations  of  sight  seem  to  possess, 
as  mere  sensation,  the  least  degree  of  emotional  qual- 
ity. The  student  must  be  careful,  however,  to  distin- 
guish between  the  emotional  value  of  a sensation  con- 
sidered by  itself,  and  its  value  when  idealized  by  the 
higher  processes.  The  less  emotive  power  a sensation 
possesses  'per  se,  the  more  it  seems  capable  of  taking  on 
in  complex  forms.  Thus  the  organic  sensations  enter 
very  slightly  into  the  more  developed  forms  of  feeling, 
while  those  of  sight  and  hearing  are  all-important. 

Organic  Feelings. — Sensations  of  the  organism  serve 
for  the  most  part  simply  to  give  us  a feeling  of  gen- 
eral well-being.  The  feeling  of  health,  of  being  alive, 
is  due  to  the  summation  of  the  various  minute  feelings 
which  the  sensations  proceeding  from  each  organ  pos- 
sess. Feelings  of  this  character  are  well  termed  volu- 
minous or  massive;  they  are  so  pervasive  that  they 
seem  almost  to  possess  spatial  characteristics.  This 
feeling  is  much  keener  in  childhood  than  afterwards. 
Whether  this  is  due  to  an  actual  falling-off  of  emo- 
tional quality,  or  to  the  fact  that  the  adult  conscious- 
ness is  much  more  occupied  with  more  complex  feel- 
ings, it  would  be  difficult  to  say ; but  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  the  sense  of  “ being  alive  ” is  much  more  vivid 
in  childhood  than  afterwards.  Leigh  Hunt  says  that 
when  he  was  a child  the  sight  of  certain  palings  paint- 
ed red  gave  him  keener  pleasure  than  any  experience 


254 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  manhood.  Making  allowances  for  exaggeration, 
this  expresses  a common  experience. 

Characteristics. — This  vital  sensation  remains  at  all 
periods,  however,  the  substructure  of  every  feeling ; 
it  is  the  most  permanent  and  enduring  of  all  feel- 
ings, and  any  interference  with  it  is  sure  to  produce 
the  most  disastrous  psychical  effect.  It  is  the  summa- 
tion of  the  feelings  of  the  workings  of  the  entire  or- 
ganism that  appears  to  form  the  basis  of  the  tempera- 
ments, and  which,  interwoven  with  more  complex 
states  of  emotion,  constitute  mood  or  emotional  tone. 
While  it  seems  impossible  that  we  should  have  feeling 
and  not  be  conscious  of  it,  it  yet  appears  to  be  a fact 
that  while  the  healthy  workings  of  the  organism  give 
us  our  most  fundamental  feeling,  and  that  other  feel- 
ings are,  in  a sense,  only  differentiations  of  it,  we  are 
not  reflectively  conscious  of  it.  In  truth,  however, 
there  is  no  contradiction,  for  it  is  one  thing  to  possess 
a feeling,  and  another  to  make  it  an  object  of  recogni- 
tion. The  healthier  the  feeling,  the  more  we  are  ab- 
sorbed in  it,  and  the  less  we  recognize  it,  even  as  a feel- 
ing. It  is  only  when  the  feeling  ceases  to  be  healthy, 
when  it  is  due  to  some  abnormal  action,  that  we  are 
reflexly  conscious  of  its  existence. 

Taste  and  Smell. — It  has  already  been  noticed  that 
in  taste  and  smell  the  emotional  side  preponderates 
over  the  cognitive.  The  latter  is  more  apparent  than 
in  the  organic  sensations,  however,  for  the  properties 
of  the  latter  we  never  think  of  referring  beyond  the 
organism,  while  we  do  speak  of  the  taste  of  sugar  or 
the  smell  of  cologne.  Nevertheless  both  tastes  and 
smells  are  more  easily  classified  as  agreeable  or  disa- 
greeable than  from  any  objective  standard.  Taste  has 


SENSUOUS  FEELING. 


255 


the  more  immediate  capacity  for  giving  pleasure  and 
pain,  and  the  feelings  arising  from  it  and  the  organic 
sensations  seem  to  constitute  most  of  the  psychical  life 
of  an  infant.  Smell  is  more  elusive  and  subtle  in  its 
effects,  and,  by  reason  of  its  less  degree  of  grossness, 
enters  more  readily  into  higher  associations. 

It  must  be  noticed  that  the  organic  sensations  and 
taste  are  personal  in  the  narrowest  sense,  a sense  in 
which  “ person  ” is  identified  with  our  own  organism, 
distinct  from  others  in  space  and  time.  It  is  only 
one’s  own  bodily  processes  which  occasion  organic  feel- 
ing; and  a substance  must  be  actually  taken  into  the 
organism  through  the  mouth  before  it  can  be  tasted. 
Such  feelings  tend  to  divide  one  individual  from  an- 
other, for  their  enjoyment  by  one  is  either  not  shared 
with  another,  or  is  actually  incompatible  with  such 
sharing.  In  smell,  feeling  becomes  a whit  more  objec- 
tive and  universal.  The  odorous  object,  as  a whole,  is 
not  dissolved  in  the  organism.  A number  may  get 
and  enjoy  similar  feelings  from  one  object. 

Touch. — In  touch  we  see  an  emotional  side  mani- 
fested in  the  fact  that  we  speak  of  feeling  something 
when  we  come  in  contact  with  it.  The  object  which 
stimulates  sensations  of  contact  is  extra-organic,  and 
the  feeling  is  more  universal  in  its  nature  than  any  yet 
studied.  The  tactual  qualities  which  give  pleasure  are 
smoothness  and  softness — especially  when  combined,  as 
in  velvet,  the  human  skin,  etc.  Roughness  and  hard- 
ness, on  the  other  hand,  are  highly  disagreeable,  espe- 
cially when  combined  in  the  form  of  harshness.  The 
physiological  basis  of  this  fact  seems  to  be  that  a 
smooth,  soft  surface  allows  a continuous,  uninterrupted 
nervous  discharge,  while  jagged  and  uneven  surfaces 


256 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


occasion  an  intermittent,  irregular  activity.  The  feel- 
ing occasioned  by  running  the  fingers  over  sand-paper 
is  not  unlike  that  experienced  by  hearing  the  filing  of 
a saw. 

Muscular  Feelings. — The  feelings  originating  from 
muscular  sensation  occupy  a peculiar  position  between 
the  organic  sensations,  on  the  one  hand,  and  those  of 
sight  and  touch,  on  the  other.  They  are  due  to  the 
activity  of  the  body,  and  hence  have  a purely  personal 
reference,  but  they  are  so  associated  with  all  other 
senses  that  they  take  on  the  qualities  of  the  latter. 
More  especially  they  are  the  condition  of  our  reaching 
any  end,  and  hence  they  become  associated  with  what- 
ever feelings  cluster  about  the  attainment  of  this  end. 
Their  distinction  from  organic  feelings  as  purely  per- 
sonal seems  to  be  due  to  the  fact  that  the  latter  have 
to  do  wholly  with  our  own  passive  enjoyment;  while 
the  former,  though  originating  in  ourselves,  are  accom- 
paniments of  our  activity , and  may  extend  as  far  and 
wide  as  these  activities  reach  in  their  effects.  What 
we  passively  enjoy  can  be  enjoyed  by  ourselves  alone  ; 
what  we  actively  enjoy  may  be  indefinitely  shared.  In 
fact,  in  many  cases,  as  when  the  good  of  some  other 
person  is  the  proximate  end  of  action,  there  will  be  no 
pleasure  in  the  activity  to  ourselves  unless  the  other 
person  is  made  happy,  and  thus  the  end  of  action  is 
reached. 

Use  of  Language. — There  is  unconsciously  embodied 
a great  deal  of  psychological  truth  in  the  terms  which 
we  use  to  express  various  emotional  characteristics. 
No  matter  how  high  these  may  be,  their  names  are 
quite  generally  derived  from  their  sensuous  basis. 
Thus,  terms  which  express  immediate  personal  attrac- 


SENSUOUS  FEELING. 


257 


tion  or  repulsion  are  derived  for  the  most  part  from 
the  senses  of  smell  and  taste.  To  loathe  is  much  the 
same  as  to  be  nauseated  at  something.  Dis-gust  is  a 
strong  term  for  personal  repugnance,  and  even  its  ob- 
jective manifestation  centres  about  the  curl  of  the  nos- 
trils and  of  the  mouth.  The  idea  in  these  words  seems 
to  be  that  we  reject  the  loathsome  or  disgusting  or 
bitter  object,  as  we  would  something  offensive  to  stom- 
ach, taste,  or  smell.  Agreeable  things,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  sweet,  delicious,  fragrant.  In  general,  what 
agrees  with  us,  or  is  disagreeable,  is  expressed  in  terms 
of  the  lower  senses. 

The  TJse  of  Language  in  Higher  Feelings. — Terms 
expressive  of  moral  qualities  and  such  as  name  activi- 
ties are  derived  rather  from  touch  and  muscular  activ- 
ity. A person  is  sharp,  acute,  or  obtuse.  He  has 
smooth,  polished  manners,  or  is  rough  and  coarse. 
Character  is  firm  or  yielding.  An  upright  mau  is  said 
to  be  square.  Some  persons  are  called  light,  while  the 
words  of  others  carry  weight.  Dull  persons  are  gen- 
erally heavy  as  well ; harsh  people  grate  upon  us,  while 
fine  traits  attract  us.  Some  men  are  slow,  others  fast. 
An  act  is  right  and  of  a high  character,  or  is  base  and 
low.  Good  elevates  a man,  bad  degrades  him.  All 
such  adjectives  show  an  instinctive  feeling  that  moral 
qualities  are  connected  in  some  way  with  personal  ac- 
tivity, and  that  one’s  most  striking  characteristics  are 
due  to  the  way  in  which  “one  holds  himself”  towards 
others.  Intellectual  traits  are  designated  rather  by 
terms  derived  from  sight,  as  clear,  bright,  sparkling, 
lucid ; though  even  here  terms  that  denote  putting 
forth  of  mental  activity  are  derived  from  terms  of 
muscular  action,  as  penetrating,  incisive,  etc. 


258 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Feelings  of  Hearing. — Sensations  of  heaving  are,  for 
the  most  part,  objectified,  and  hence  lose  that  purely 
individualistic  reference  which  constitutes  their  value 
as  sensuous  feelings.  By  the  very  reason  of  their  ob- 
jectification, however,  they  become  centres  for  those 
more  complex  forms  of  feeling  which  cluster  about 
objects.  In  especial,  they  constitute  the  sensuous  basis 
of  all  the  enjoyments  of  language  and  music.  But 
such  emotional  effects  transcend  the  subject  we  are 
now  considering.  The  harmony  and  melody  of  mu- 
sic, however,  although  properly  complex  aesthetic  ef- 
fects, seem  to  have  a sensuous  aspect,  in  the  fact  that 
they  find  their  basis  in  continued,  regularly-recurrent 
nerve  discharges.  Apart  from  any  process  of  devel- 
opment, also,  slow  sounds  suggest  sorrow,  quick  ones 
joy  and  mirth.  Sounds  get  much  of  their  emotional  ef- 
fect through  their  associations  with  muscular  sensation, 
as  in  the  march  and  the  varied  forms  of  the  dance.  Soft 
tones  are  melancholy;  loud  suggest  impatient  energy. 
Deep  tones  suggest  gravity,  dignity^ ; high  ones,  unless 
so  high  as  to  be  shrill,  cheerful  brightness  or  levity. 
Very  peculiar  and  indescribable  feelings  are  those  due 
to  the  characteristic  quality  or  tone-color  of  various  in- 
struments, as  the  flute,  organ,  violin,  bagpipe.  Disso- 
nance accompanying  prevailing  harmony  occasions  a 
feeling  of  unrest  and  longing. 

Feelings  of  Sight. — In  sight,  as  in  hearing,  there  is 
very  little  of  immediate  emotional  quality.  This  very 
fact,  of  course,  indefinitely  enlarges  the  range  of  emo- 
tions which  visual  sensations  take  on  through  their 
indirect  connections.  In  particular,  it  is  the  lack  of 
immediate  reference  to  the  organism  which  enables 
feelings  of  sight  as  well  as  of  hearing  to  be  the  basis 


SENSUOUS  FEELING. 


259 


of  aesthetic  effects.  We  may  say  of  feeling,  as  of 
knowledge,  that  the  more  immediate  it  is— that  is,  the 
less  it  takes  us  beyond  what  is  sensuously  present,  the 
less  developed  it  is.  The  more  we  are  absorbed  in  the 
feeling  as  such,  and  the  less  we  are  absorbed  in  the 
object  or  activity  to  which  the  feeling  clings,  the  more 
undefined  and  undeveloped  is  the  emotion.  Sight 
gives  so  little  direct  pleasure  and  pain  that  it  is  pre- 
eminently fitted  for  becoming  the  vehicle  of  higher 
enjoyments  and  sufferings. 

Sensuous  Characteristics.  — Even  visual  sensations 
are  not  wholly  free,  however,  from  sensuous  appeal  to 
feeling.  An  expanse  of  light  gives  pleasure  in  itself. 
Long-continued  darkness  is  gloomy.  A succession  of 
cloudy  days  may  give  the  blues.  Black  seems  mel- 
ancholy, or  suggests  earnestness ; white  is  cheerful. 
The  amount  of  white  mixed  with  any  spectral  color 
affects  its  emotional  tone,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  differ- 
ence between  the  effects  of  violet  and  lilac,  blue  and 
sea-blue,  red  and  rose.  Colors  which  are  so  mixed 
that  the  spectral  colors  do  not  stand  forth  at  all,  as  gray 
and  brown,  are  very  properly  called  neutral  colors,  as 
they  seem  to  be  wholly  indifferent  to  feeling.  It  is 
noticeable  that,  with  growing  civilization,  there  is  a 
tendency  to  take  less  and  less  delight  in  the  purely 
sensuous  quality  of  colors,  and  to  take  refuge  in  neu- 
tral tints.  Grays  and  browns  consequently  predomi- 
nate in  clothing,  house  - furnishing,  etc.  It  is  quite 
different  with  uncultivated  taste.  While  a neutral 
tint  will  allow  the  emotional  qualities  of  form,  de- 
sign, etc.,  to  be  still  more  apparent,  not  exciting  the 
feelings  immediately,  tastes  unable  to  appreciate  the 
subtler  enjoyments  find  keen  delight  in  glaring  red?, 


260 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


and  yellows.  In  the  spectral  scale,  Goethe  called  the 
colors  from  red  to  green,  plus,  because  they  excite 
feeling ; from  green  to  violet,  minus,  because  they 
soothe  or  depress  it.  Yellow  seems  associated  with 
warmth,  while  pure  blue  is  a cold  color.  Unrefined 
tastes  enjoy  the  plus  and  the  warm  colors.  There  is, 
however,  the  possibility  of  carrying  a refinement  of 
taste  to  the  point  where  it  becomes  fastidiousness,  and 
ceases  to  find  any  pleasure  in  those  colors  which  nor- 
mally excite  a healthy  enjoyment.  After  a period  of 
over-fastidiousness,  taste  recovers  itself  by  having  re- 
course to  those  brighter  and  warmer  colors  which  once 
it  spurned  as  barbaric  and  coarse. 

Application  of  Theory. — It  will  be  seen  that  the  dis- 
cussion of  sensuous  feeling  is  in  line  with  our  theory. 
Every  sensation  represents  an  activity  of  the  soul.  It 
is  a re-active  and  mechanical  activity  it  is  true,  but  none 
the  less  an  activity;  as  such,  we  should  expect  it  to 
give  rise  to  pleasure  and  pain.  As  the  activity  of  the 
soul  in  sensation  is  not  purely  formal,  or  confined  to 
one  mode,  but  specifies  itself  in  the  whole  series  of 
sensations  differing  in  quality,  Ave  should  expect  to  find 
sensuous  feelings  highly  diversified  in  content.  As 
feeling  is  the  individual  side  of  consciousness,  Ave 
should  expect  to  find  that  the  more  the  sensation  be- 
came objectified,  the  less  would  it  appear  as  immediate 
feeling,  that  is,  as  sensuous  feeling.  As  knoAvledge  is, 
however,  one  mode  of  the  activity  of  self,  Ave  may  ex- 
pect to  find  that  what  is  lost  in  the  way  of  direct  sen- 
suous feeling  Ave  shall  find  turning  up  again  in  the 
form  of  mediate  intellectual  feeling. 

Murray  ( np.cil .),  pp.  330-348;  Wundt  (np.cit.'),  vol.  i.,  pp.  4G5-499;  Lotze, 
'Microcosmus,”  pp.  567-578;  Layeock,  “Mind  and  Brain,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  274- 


SENSUOUS  FEELING. 


261 


293;  Honvicz  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  191-201;  vol.  ii.,  pt.  1,  pp.  88-122;  Brau- 
bach,  “ Psychologie  des  Gefuhls,”  pp.  12-39 ; Nahlowsky,  “ Das  Gefuhlsleben,” 
pp.  130-156;  Schneider,  “Der  menschliche  Wille,  pp.  117-246. 

Upon  the  temperaments,  consult  Wundt  (op.  cit.'),  vol.  ii.,  p.  345  ff. ; George 
(op.  cit.).  pp.  125-150 ; Ulrici  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  129-136 ; Braubach  (op. 
cit.),  pp.  112-140 ; Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  209-216 ; Fortlage  in  “ Acht 
psychologische  Vortrage;”  and  Ilenle,  “ Authropologische  Vortrage.” 


CHAPTER  XII. 
FORMAL  FEELING. 


Distinction  from  Sensuous  Feeling.  — In  sensuous 
feeling  the  emotion  clings  to  the  bare  presence  of  the 
sensation  itself.  The  pleasure,  indeed,  that  comes  from 
the  taste  of  an  orange,  the  pain  arising  from  a bruise 
of  the  finger,  may  become  associated  with  the  rest  of 
our  life  ; the  pleasure  of  eating  the  orange  may  be  en- 
hanced by  its  rarity  or  by  the  thought  of  some  one 
from  whom  it  wras  a gift;  the  pain  of  the  bruise  may 
be  increased  by  the  reflection  that  it  will  prevent  our 
carrying-out  some  cherished  scheme.  But  the  feelings 
in  themselves,  as  sensuous,  do  not  thus  take  us  beyond 
their  immediate  presence.  Tlieir  significance  is  entire- 
ly exhausted  in  their  own  intrinsic  qualities.  The 
feelings  which  we  are  now  to  study  are  those  which 
are  concerned  with  the  connecting  activity  of  mind. 
They  are  psychical  experiences  which  extend  beyond 
the  intrinsic  qualities  of  the  sensation  to  the  emotional 
value  which  it  has  from  its  connection  with  other  ex- 
periences, past  or  anticipated. 

Formal  Feelings. — Such  feelings,  taking  us  beyond 
what  is  sensuously  present,  may  be  classified  under  twro 
heads.  While  all  are  due  to  the  fact  of  connection, 
some  are  due  to  the  mere  mode  of  connection,  with  no 
reference  to  what  is  connected,  while  others  depend  not 
upon  the  mode  of  activity,  but  upon  the  subject-matter 
connected.  The  hearing  of  an  unexpected  remark, 


FORMAL  FEELING. 


263 


and  the  news  of  the  death  of  a friend  occasion  feelings 
which  in  their  form  are  alike.  Each  is  dne  to  an  ac- 
tivity suddenly  appearing  which  is  not  in  harmony 
with  that  already  existing.  In  content , however,  the 
feelings  may  be  wide-world  apart ; as  far  apart  as  the 
quality  of  that  which  is  heard.  This  occasions  a dis- 
tinction of  feelings  into  formal  and  qualitative.  It  is 
the  former  which  we  ere  now  to  consider.  The  formal 
feelings  accompany,  for  the  most  part,  the  mechanical 
activities  of  mind  which  connect  together  the  various 
past  and  present  elements  of  psychical  life;  and  the 
qualitative  feelings  correspond  more  nearly  to  the  at- 
tentive activity  which  idealizes  these  elements  and  gives 
them  their  specific  significance.  But  the  correspond- 
ence is  a general  one  and  must  not  be  pressed  too  far. 

Feelings  of  Adjustment. — We  have  to  do,  then,  with 
the  feelings  awakened  by  the  form  of  the  activity  with- 
out any  reference  to  the  material  upon  which  this  ac- 
tivity is  exerted  except  so  far  as  that  may  continue  or 
repress  the  activity.  Every  activity  may,  in  a certain 
sense,  be  regarded  as  one  of  adjustment,  as  it  is  based 
upon  a certain  stimulus,  and  is  directed  towards  bring- 
ing itself  into  conformity  with  the  stimulus,  either  by 
altering  its  own  condition,  or  by  doing  away  with  the 
stimulus.  There  will  be,  accordingly,  as  many  kinds 
of  formal  feeling  as  there  are  forms  of  adjustment. 
We  recognize  three  general  types.  There  is,  first,  the 
adjustment  which  connects  or  reacts  against  various 
elements  in  our  present  activity,  corresponding,  upon 
the  whole,  to  simultaneous  association.  There  is,  sec- 
ondly, the  adjustment  which  brings  into  connection 
present  and  gpast  experiences,  corresponding,  we  may 
say,  to  successive  association.  And,  thirdly,  we  have 


2 64 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


feelings  depending  upon  the  relation  which  present  ex- 
periences bear  to  those  anticipated  in  future , feelings 
which  are  connected  with  the  adjusting  activity  of  atten- 
tion. 

I.  Feelings  of  Pkesent  Adjustment. 

1.  Relative  Feelings. — Every  adjustment  involves,  of 
course,  various  elements.  These  elements  stand  in  vary- 
ing relations  to  each  other.  They  may  agree  and  allow 
a harmonious  adjustment  to  occur.  They  may  be  incom- 
patible, so  that  they  offer  some  obstacle,  so  complete  that 
it  prevents  adjustment,  or  of  such  a character  that  the 
adjusting  activity  must  be  largely  expended  in  recon- 
ciling the  opposed  elements.  With  these  variations  in 
activity  go,  of  course,  variations  in  feeling.  In  general 
terms,  we  have  feelings  of  harmony , of  conflict,  and  of 
reconciliation,  or  harmony  after  conflict.  When  the 
elements  are  so  related  that  they  actually  favor  the 
adjusting  activity,  there  is  harmonious  feeling.  If  the 
mind  is  stimulated  at  the  same  time  in  such  a way 
that  two  incompatible  responses  are  called  for,  there 
arises  a sense  of  dis-chord,  or  of  jar.  In  form  these  re- 
sulting feelings  will  be  the  same,  whether  the  harmony 
or  conflict  be  one  of  sense  elements,  of  intellectual  or 
of  moral. 

Varieties. — While  the  feeling,  in  general,  is  that  of 
the  putting  forth  of  energy  so  as  to  adjust  present  fac- 
tors, subordinate  forms  must  be  recognized,  due  to  the 
varying  relations  which  these  factors  bear  to  each  other. 
The  student  will  find  an  advantage  in  analyzing  these 
types  for  himself,  but  a few  examples  may  be  given. 
One  of  the  most  important  feelings  is  that  of  exercise 
or  the  putting  forth  of  activity.  If  the  activity  pours 
forth  in  ready  and  abundant  measure,  beating  down  all 


FORMAL  FEELING. 


265 


resistance,  and  making  use  of  obstacles  only  to  over- 
come them,  there  is  a feeling  of  energy , which  may 
amount  to  triumph  or  exaltation.  If  the  obstacles  seem 
too  great,  if  the  conflict  results  in  dividing  the  activity 
so  that  nothing  is  or  can  be  accomplished,  there  is  a 
feeling  of  impotence,  which  may  amount  to  discourage- 
ment or  depression.  If  the  activity  appears  to  be  right- 
ly directed,  and  yet  is  thwarted  by  some  circumstance 
which  seems  beyond  control,  there  is  the  feeling  of  im- 
patience passing  into  discontent , if  the  circumstances 
are  continued,  or  relief,  if  they  are  removed. 

Further  Illustrated. — There  is  a feeling  of  clearness 
when  each  element  in  the  activity  is  appropriately  di- 
rected towards  its  object ; each  part  of  the  activity  not 
only  harmonizing  with  every  other,  but  also  assisting 
it,  so  that  the  effect  of  the  whole  is  greatly  heightened 
by  this  mutual  furtherance.  When  each  interferes  with 
some  other,  and  there  is  no  evident  way  of  reconciling 
the  conflict,  although  this  does  not  amount  to  entire  op- 
position, there  is  the  feeling  of  confusion.  When  there 
is  conflict  of  various  activities  going  on,  and  no  resolu- 
tion of  them  is  at  hand,  there  is  the  feeling  of  suspense 
or  uncertainty , which  enters  also  as  one  element  of  the 
feeling  of  confusion.  At  the  completion  of  the  con- 
flict there  may  be  the  feeling  of  rest  or  peace;  or  the 
strife  may  have  been  so  severe  and  prolonged  that  it  is 
one  of  exhaustion. 

When  the  conflict  of  activities  is  decided  not  by  such 
a harmonizing  of  different  elements  as  allows  each  to 
be  included  as  a subordinate  part  in  the  final  activity, 
but  by  the  entire  suppression  of  some  one  activity,  there 
arises  a very  complex  feeling.  There  is  the  feeling 
of  satisfaction  that  the  exhausting  conflict  is  ended ; 

12 


266 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


there  is  the  positive  feeling  of  pleasure  which  arises 
from  the  victory  of  some  one  activity,  while  there  is 
also  the  feeling  of  pain  or  loss  which  comes  from  the 
repression  of  some  one.  There  is  no  specific  name  for 
this  feeling,  perhaps  because  it  is  so  common  ; but  we 
rarely  make  a decision  which  is  not  followed  by  a mixed 
feeling  of  content  for  that  which  is  attained,  and  regret 
for  that  which  is  foregone.  As  already  said,  if  the  con- 
flict is  ended,  not  by  the  repression  of  any  element,  but 
by  the  harmonious  inclusion  of  all  in  some  comprehen- 
sive activity,  there  is  the  feeling  of  reconciliation,  which 
may  become  joy. 

2.  Feelings  of  Excess  of  Activity. — Feelings  of  pres- 
ent adjustment  may  depend  not  only  upon  the  relation 
which  various  present  stimuli  bear  to  each  other,  but 
also  upon  the  extent  of  the  demands  which  these  stimuli 
make  upon  the  mind.  The  more  conflict  the  better, 
provided  the  conflict  does  not  become  actual  opposi- 
tion— that  is,  provided  all  the  conflicting  activities  are 
capable  of  being  united  in  one  whole — for  such  conflict 
only  calls  forth  more  activity  and  results  in  more  com- 
plete adjustment,  that  is,  in  more  complete  develop- 
ment of  the  self.  But  the  activities  may  be  so  long 
continued  and  so  severe  as  to  drain  the  self  of  its  power 
of  action.  There  results  the  feeling  of  fatigue,  which 
may,  of  course,  be  mental  in  its  causation,  as  well  as 
physical.  It  is,  however,  more  likely  to  accompany 
such  activities  as  bear  a purely  external  relation  to  the 
end  sought.  Daily  manual  labor  is,  for  example,  gen- 
erally not  sought  for  itself,  but  only  for  the  wages 
which  reward  it.  The  work  in  itself  may  be  repulsive 
and  endured  only  for  the  sake  of  its  end.  This  gives 
rise  to  the  feeling  of  drudgery.  If,  on  the  other  hand. 


FORMAL  FEELING. 


267 


the  activity  is  put  forth  for  its  own  sake,  as  in  technical 
operations,  where  the  working  man  takes  pleasure  in 
his  skilful  performances,  or  in  artistic  production,  or  in 
scientific  research,  there  is  a feeling  of  ease , a feeling 
which  approaches  very  closely  to  play  in  its  nature. 
Activities  accompanied  by  a feeling  of  drudgery  or 
lack  of  interest  are  much  more  apt  to  result  in  fatigue 
than  those  accompanied  by  a feeling  of  play.  In  fact,  it 
may  be  doubted  whether  the  latter  activities,  if  properly 
alternated,  can  give  rise  to  any  very  permanent  fatigue. 

3.  Feelings  of  Defect  of  Activity.  — At  the  other 
end  of  the  scale,  lie  those  feelings  resulting  from  lack 
of  sufficient  exercise.  There  is  not  enough  stimulus  to 
call  forth  activity,  or  else  there  is  not  enough  energy  in 
the  individual  to  respond.  In  the  former  case,  there  is 
the  feeling  of  triviality , of  insipidity.  In  the  latter, 
there  is  the  feeling  of  the  blase.  In  either  case,  it 
may  take  the  form  of  feeling  that  nothing  is  worth 
while,  that  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.  If 
there  is  store  of  energy  in  the  individual,  but  his  sur- 
roundings are  such  as  not  to  call  it  forth,  there  arises 
the  feeling  of  isolation , of  being  out  of  joint  with 
one’s  place  or  age.  If  it  is  hemmed  in  by  external 
obstructions  and  allowed  to  find  no  outlet,  there  comes 
into  existence  the  feeling  of  bondage,  of  slavery.  Or 
the  activities  which  are  prevented  their  natural  out- 
flow may  blindly  react  against  whatever  obstructs  them, 
and  there  arises  the  feeling  of  injury , of  resentment 
and  destructive  anger , which  would  sweep  out  of  ex- 
istence all  liinderance. 

II.  Feelings  Due  to  Past  Experiences. 

As  we  saw  so  often  when  studying  the  activities  of  the 


268 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


mind  in  knowing,  there  is  no  present  activity  which  is 
not  modified  or  influenced  in  some  way  by  past  activities. 
It  follows  that  there  is  involved  in  all  feelings  due  to  the 
immediate  exercise  of  energy  a certain  element  result- 
ing from  previous  exercises,  and  it  is  this  element,  with 
the  various  forms  of  feeling  to  which  it  gives  rise,  that 
we  must  now  study.  First,  it  may  be  noticed  that 
every  past  experience  may  be  more  or  less  perfectly 
reconstructed  in  memory,  and  the  feeling  which  ac- 
companied it  thereby  revived,  though  in  vaguer  and 
slighter  measure.  There  are  the  pleasures  and  the 
pains  of  memory.  But  as  these  are  only  less  vivid 
copies  of  original  feelings,  we  need  not  stop  to  consider 
them.  The  remaining  feelings  of  this  class  may  be 
classified  (1)  as  feelings  due  to  relative  ease  of  transi- 
tion from  old  to  new  experience ; (2)  feelings  due  to 
the  relative  familiarity  or,  (3)  novelty  of  experience ; 
(4)  feelings  of  contrast , (5)  and  of  continuance. 

1.  Feelings  of  Transition.  — Old  experiences  give 
way  to  new  ones  with  various  degrees  of  resistance. 
This  ease  of  transition  varies  greatly  in  different  indi- 
viduals and  enters  largely  into  the  determination  of 
disposition  and  temperament.  Where  there  is  a dispo- 
sition to  cling  to  the  line  of  past  experience,  and  to  re- 
sist the  introduction  of  much  novelty,  there  is  a firm 
disposition,  which  in  exaggerated  form  constitutes  ob- 
stinacy. When  but  little  opposition  is  offered  to  the 
entrance  of  changing  experience  there  is  a yielding, 
pliable,  or  easy  nature,  which  may  become  volatile.  The 
relative  amount  of  resistance  offered  to  the  introduc- 
tion of  new  experience  may  be  an  important  factor  in 
determining  the  will.  A stable  disposition  may  give 
rise  to  a firm  will ; one  accessible  to  change  to  a weak 


FORMAL  FEELING. 


269 


will,  but  this  by  no  means  necessarily  follows.  While 
dispositions  are  different  in  different  individuals,  yet 
there  is  no  one  who  can  wholly  shut  himself  within  the 
old ; and  no  one  who  can  make  himself  wholly  open  to 
the  new.  This  occasions  certain  varieties  of  feeling 
which  are  found  in  ail. 

Varieties. — When  past  experiences  tend  to  thrust 
themselves  pretty  constantly  into  the  present,  there 
arises  the  feeling  of  dwelling  or  lingering  upon  a sub- 
ject, which  in  its  extreme  aspect  is  brooding.  If  the 
dwelling  is  upon  some  supposed  wrong  done,  it  takes 
the  form  of  sullenness.  If  upon  some  past  agreeable 
experiences  in  contrast  with  present  painful  ones,  it  is 
melancholy.  “ Sorrow’s  crown  of  sorrows  is  remem- 
bering happier  things.”  The  opposite  feeling,  induced 
by  a pleasant  transition,  is  gladness / while  opposed  to 
snllenness,  wdiich  looks  for  occasion  of  pain,  is  cheerful- 
ness, which  is  the  feeling  which  arises  from  a constant 
tendency  to  find  pleasure  in  the  change  of  experience. 
The  effect  of  increase  of  experience  is  to  moderate  in 
both  directions  the  feelings  due  to  change  of  experi- 
ence. A child  finds  more  joy  in  mere  change  of  ex- 
perience than  an  adult,  while  his  grief  at  disagreeable 
change  is  much  more  poignant  and  acute,  if  not  so  en- 
during. 

2.  Feelings  of  Familiarity. — Aside  from  the  change 
which  may  itself  give  rise  to  feeling,  we  have  feelings 
which  originate  in  the  more  definite  relations  which 
past  experience  bears  to  the  present.  In  studying  as- 
sociation, we  saw  that  it  turns  largely  upon  the  two 
factors  of  familiarity  and  novelty.  A feeling  of  famil- 
iarity, or  of  likeness  between  the  present  and  the  past 
experience,  is  pleasant  because  the  energy  which  occa- 


270 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sions  it  is  put  forth  in  a well-worn  groove,  and  it  re- 
quires no  overcoming  of  obstacle  and  resistance.  In 
a very  general  sense,  it  is  the  feeling  of  comfort ; the 
feeling  that  we  are  “at  home”  in  our  surroundings, 
whether  physical,  intellectual,  or  social.  On  the  other 
hand,  a feeling  of  familiarity  may  be  unpleasant,  be- 
cause the  experience  is  so  customary  that  it  can  be 
performed  without  the  putting  forth  of  much  activity. 
A feeling  may  consequently  arise  very  similar  to  that 
induced  by  defective  activity ; a feeling  which  takes 
the  form  of  ennui  or  monotony , of  stateness.  We  are 
bored  instead  of  being  comfortable. 

3.  Feelings  of  Novelty. — A feeling  of  novelty,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  pleasurable  in  so  far  as  it  affords  a new 
channel  for  the  exercise  of  energy.  It  opens  a fresh 
outlet  for  action.  The  forces  which  would  be  other- 
wise penned  in,  or  only  half  used  in  repeating  actions 
become  habitual,  find  full  scope  for  exercise.  This 
feeling  may  take  various  forms.  It  may  be  one  of 
brightness , or  of  buoyancy , or  of  recreation , as  opposed 
to  staleness,  or  ennui.  If,  however,  the  new  experi- 
ence is  not  easily  reconciled  with  the  old,  if  it  requires 
a division  or  conflict  of  energy,  the  feeling  will  be 
painful.  The  feeling  may  be  one  of  strangeness , of 
discomfort ; or,  if  it  is  of  such  a nature  as  to  reflect 
upon  ourselves,  of  rawness  and  inexperience.  If  the 
new  experience  is  accompanied  with  a feeling  of  our 
inability  to  cope  with  it,  there  is  the  feeling  of  terror , 
or  fright. 

In  general,  it  may  be  said  that  the  maximum  of 
pleasurable  feeling  is  occasioned  by  a combination  of 
the  new  and  the  customary.  Such  a combination  al- 
lows the  mind  to  feel  at  home,  as  dealing  with  material 


FOKMAL  FEELING. 


271 


over  which  it  has  command,  while  it  also  stimulates  it 
to  fresh  and  unworn  activities.  The  pleasure  derived 
from  hearing  music  on  its  formal  side  may  be  consid- 
ered an  illustration  of  the  advantages  of  a union  of  the 
recurrent  and  the  novel.  One  factor  satisfies  the  mind  ; 
the  other  stimulates  it  and  keeps  it  on  the  alert.  This 
corresponds  to  what  is  found  to  be  the  best  condition  of 
intellectual  action ; not  bare  identity  nor  extreme  dif- 
ference calls  forth  knowledge,  but  the  identical  in  the 
midst  of  difference. 

4.  Effects  of  Contrast. — There  must  be  a certain 
amount  of  change,  or  else  no  activity  is  called  forth, 
and  where  there  is  no  activity,  there  is  no  feeling.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  must  not  be  complete  breach  of 
continuity,  for  then  the  energy  will  be  expended  at 
random  and  unsuccessfully.  Progressive  change,  or 
contrast,  is  fitted  to  awaken  pleasurable  feelings.  The 
following  facts,  among  many  which  might  be  selected, 
illustrate  this : When  we  are  extremely  hungry,  food 
that  would  otherwise  be  indifferent  or  repulsive  is  very 
agreeable.  An  object  which  is  agreeable  is  still  more 
so  if  it  finds  the  soul  at  rest,  and  stimulates  it  to  some 
action.  Moderate  transitions  are  generally  more  pleas- 
ant than  abrupt.  The  climax  of  a drama  is  not  thrust 
upon  us,  but  is  led  up  to,  and  then  the  tension  is  gradu- 
ally relieved.  Unpleasant  effect,  however,  is  often  best 
relieved  by  sudden  contrast,  so  Shakespeare  alternates 
the  scenes  of  the  fool  in  Lear  and  the  grave-digger  in 
Hamlet  with  those  of  extreme  tragedy.  Even  in  such 
cases,  however,  there  is  no  complete  breach  of  con- 
tinuity. The  character  of  a feeling  is  fixed  largely  by 
its  place  in  the  succession  of  ideas.  A joke  is  not 
funny  in  the  midst  of  exalted  religious  feeling;  nor 


272 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  sound  of  revelry  enjoyable  to  one  in  deep  mourn- 
ing. 

5.  Effects  of  Continuance. — On  the  other  hand.  tlie  ef- 
fect of  the  continuance  of  any  feeling  without  the  in- 
troduction of  some  new  element  deadens  the  feeling. 
This  is  what  we  should  expect,  for  our  store  of  activity 
being  limited,  the  activity  will  exhaust  itself  if  not  fre- 
quently stimulated  afresh.  Hence  pleasures  of  the 
same  kind  continued  without  interruption  cease  to 
please.  Pain  loses  some  of  its  paiufulness  if  not  rein- 
forced by  fresh  stimuli.  Only  those  games  continue 
to  be  enjoyable  which  offer  large  opportunity  for  the 
introduction  of  the  unexpected.  Play  owes  much  of 
its  pleasure  to  the  fact  that  it  does  not  confine  action 
to  any  definite  line,  but  allows  it  constant  variety.  The 
use  of  artificial  stimulants  is  constant  witness  to  the 
psychological  law  that  continuance  in  any  state  un- 
interruptedly is  unhealthy  and  hence  unpleasurable, 
and  that  if  no  natural  variety  offers  itself,  unnatural 
will  be  sought. 

Put,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must  not  lose  sight  of 
the  fact  that  actions  unpleasant  at  first,  because  not 
conducive  to  the  welfare  of  the  organism,  may  become 
agreeable  if  persisted  in.  The  action  causes  a modifi- 
cation of  the  organ  involved,  and  causes  it  to  become 
finally  adjusted  to  something  originally  repulsive.  The 
finding  of  enjoyment  in  reading  by  one  to  whom  books 
were  once  tedious,  and  the  pleasures  which  tobacco  and 
liquor  users  find  in  their  habits  equally  illustrate  this 
law.  If  the  change  of  the  organ  is  such  as  occasions 
the  development  of  the  whole  organism,  permanent 
pleasure  is  gained;  it  is  possible,  however,  to  adjust 
one  set  of  organs,  only  upon  condition  that  the  organ- 


FORMAL  FEELING. 


273 


ism  as  a whole  is  put  out  of  healthy  adjustment  to  its 
surroundings,  and  in  such  cases  the  temporary  pleas- 
ure is  necessarily  followed  by  permanent  break-down. 
This  is  true,  of  course,  not  only  of  physical  actions,  but 
of  all  coming  in  the  moral  sphere. 

III.  Feeling  of  Adjustment  Directed  Towards  the 
Future. 

All  of  our  activities,  though  based  upon  past  expe- 
riences, have  their  end  in  the  future,  and  there  are 
certain  feelings  which  arise  from  the  relations  existing 
between  the  end  aimed  at  and  the  activities  put  forth. 
In  a general  way,  the  typical  feeling  of  this  class  is 
expectancy , which  is  the  feeling  that  accompanies  the 
stretching  forward  of  the  mind.  Its  acute  form  is  eager- 
ness. If  the  self  is  much  interested  in  the  end  towards 
which  it  is  directed  this  feeling  takes  the  form  of  hope 
or  anxiety / hope  if  the  expectation  is  that  the  result 
will  conform  to  one’s  desires,  anxiety  or  dread  in  the 
reverse  case.  Courage  is  the  feeling  with  which  one 
faces  a future  to  which  he  feels  equal ; timidity  is  the 
feeling  of  inability  to  cope  with  the  expected  end. 

Active  Feelings. — The  activity  directed  towards  the 
future  may  not  merely  passively  await  the  expected 
event,  but  may,  as  it  were,  go  forth  to  meet  it.  This 
in  its  most  general  form  takes  the  form  of  a feeling  of 
pressure , of  effort  and  of  striving.  If  the  action  is  to 
reach  the  end,  the  feeling  is  one  of  seeking.  If  the 
seeking  is  intense  it  is  yearning.  If  the  striving  is  to 
avoid  the  expected  end,  there  is  a feeling  of  aversion. 
There  is  also  a class  of  feelings  which  accompany  the 
end  itself.  There  is  feeling  of  success  or  failure ; of 
satisfaction , or  of  disappointment. 

12* 


274 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Summary. 

Feeling  is  an  accompaniment  of  activity.  It  is  the 
self  finding  its  own  nature  in  every  activity  of  the  soul. 
In  each  the  self  finds  itself  either  hindered  or  fur- 
thered ; either  repressed  or  developed,  and  in  every 
activity  there  is  accordingly  pleasure  or  pain.  As  no 
activity  is  entirely  at  random,  but  has  certain  connec- 
tions and  ends,  feeling  is  an  accompaniment  of  adjust- 
ment, of  what  in  knowledge  we  learned  to  know  as  ap- 
perception. All  adjustment  that  accomplishes  itself 
gives  rise  to  pleasure;  all  failure  to  adjust,  or  mis-ad- 
justment,  to  pain.  The  adjusting  activity  is  called  forth 
by  stimuli,  and,  under  the  following  circumstances  there 
is  lack  of  adjustment  or  improper  adjustment  with  con- 
sequent pain  : when  the  stimuli  relatively  to  the  energy 
to  be  put  forth  are  (a)  too  numerous,  too  conflicting  or 
too  powerful;  and  (6)  too  few,  too  much  alike,  or  too 
weak  (perhaps  entirely  absent).  The  right  combi- 
nation of  unity  and  variety  calls  forth  the  best  ener- 
gy and  the  most  successful  adjustment,  and  hence  the 
greatest  pleasure. 

Murray  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  378 -385  ; McCosh  (op.  cit.),  pp.  115-148;  Bascora, 
“Principles  of  Psychology,”  pp.  249-255;  Bain,  “Emotions  anil  Will,”  pp. 
03-93,  145-198;  Brown,  “Philosophy  of  Mind,”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  31-193,  272-313) 
Braubach  (op.  cit.),  pp.  95-112;  Nahlowsky  (op.  cit.),  pp.  85-129;  Ulrici  (op. 
eit .),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  182-199 ; Beneke,  “ Psychologische  Skizzen,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  45-91. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS. 


Distinction  from  Formal. — We  have  been  consid- 
ering feelings  so  far  as  they  are  the  result  of  the  form 
of  the  activity  which  they  accompany,  without  refer- 
ence to  the  object  of  the  activity,  except  so  far  as  this 
influences  the  form.  We  may  feel  confused,  or  bored, 
or  anxious  about  almost  anything.  But  in  thus  con- 
sidering feeling  we  have  made  abstraction  of  the  fact 
that  activities  are  always  called  forth  by,  and  are  di- 
: rected  towards,  certain  objects.  There  is,  in  a concrete 
f sense,  no  such  thing  as  a purely  formal  activity;  there 
is  no  activity  without  a content.  The  self  does  not 
realize  or  develop  itself  in  empty  ways,  but  in  specific, 
definite  modes.  Our  activities  are  due  to  the  objects 
which  come  within  the  range  of  our  experience,  and 
hence  the  feelings  excited  necessarily  cluster  about 
ftmco  The  object  and  the  feeling  cannot  be 


; they  are  factors  of  the  same  consciousness. 


Connection  with  Apperception. — This  relation  of  the 
feeling  to  the  object  is  sometimes  spoken  of  as  if  it 
were  due  to  the  law  of  association  which  connects  a 
feeling  with  something  which  awakens  the  feeling. 
But  this  does  not  express  the  whole  truth.  The  con- 
nection is  not  an  external  one  of  the  feeling  with  the 
object,  but  an  internal  and  intimate  one ; it  is  feeling 
of  the  object.  The  feeling  loses  itself  in  the  object. 
Thus  we  say  that  food  is  agreeable,  that  light  is  pleas- 


276 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ant;  or  on  a higher  plane,  that  the  landscape  is  beauti-  , 
ful,  or  that  the  act  is  right.  Certain  feelings  of  value 
or  worth  we  attribute  spontaneously  to  the  object.  It 
is  the  same  fact  seen  on  the  side  of  emotion,  that  we 
have  already  seen  on  the  side  of  knowledge.  An  ob- 
ject becomes  intellectually  significant  to  us  when  the 
self  reads  its  past  experience  into  it.  But  as  this  past 
experience  is  not  colorlessly  intellectual,  but  is  dyed 
through  and  through  with  interests,  with  feelings  of 
worth,  the  emotional  element  is  also  read  into  the  ob- 
ject, and  made  a constituent  element  of  it.  The  object 
becomes  saturated  with  the  value  for  the  self  which  the 
self  puts  into  it.  It  is  a universal  law  of  the  mind  in 
apperception  that  it  must  objectify  itself.  The  world 
t thus  comes  to  be  a collection  of  objects  possessing  emo- 
tional worth  as  well  as  intellectual. 

Mere  Feeling  and  Interest.  — We  may,  then,  distin- 
guish between  mere  feeling  and  developed  feeling — in- 
terest. Mere  feeling  is  a mental  affection  in  its  isola- 
tion. A pain  pricks  me  ; a noise  startles  me ; a picture 
or  landscape  delights  me;  a comprehensive  philosophi- 
cal or  religious  idea  awakens  me  ; a moral  crisis  arouses 
my  whole  being — in  each  of  these  cases  we  may  con- 
sider the  feeling,  the  pain,  the  alarm,  the  delight,  etc., 
in  itself  apart  from  its  connections.  This  is  bare  feel- 
ing. But  taken  concretely  the  feeling  is  integrated 
with  the  object  which  arouses  it  and  with  the  action 
which  accompanies  it.  This  integration  is  slighter  the 
more  sensuous  the  feeling  — as  of  the  pin-prick  — and 
more  important  the  “ higher”  the  feeling.  Feeling,  so 
far  as  it  is  taken  out  of  its  isolation  and  put  in  relation 
to  objects  of  knowledge  or  ideals  of  action,  is  interest. 
Interest  has  three  factors.  First,  as  feeling,  it  implies 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  277 

a certain  excitation  of  the  self  in  which  there  is  satisfac- 
tion. Secondly,  this  satisfaction  is  not  in  the  mere  feeling, 
but  in  some  activity  connected  with  the  feeling.  Third- 
ly, this  activity  has  to  do  with  some  object.  The  mere 
feeling  is  exhausted  in  itself.  An  interest  attaches  to 
an  object.  We  are  interested  in  something.  This  neces- 
sarily, for  the  activity  takes  us  beyond,  the  feeling. 

Varieties  of  Qualitative  Feeling.  — It  follows  that 
there  will  be  as  many  kinds  of  qualitative  feeling  as 
there  are  objects  into  connection  with  which  experi- 
ence has  been  extended.  Our  feeling  for  a broom  is 
not  the  same  as  our  feeling  for  a rose ; our  feeling  for 
a geometrical  proposition  not  the  same  as  our  feeling 
for  the  spectrum  ; our  feeling  for  Abyssinia  not  the 
same  as  our  feeling  for  our  own  country ; our  feeling 
for  Alexander  the  Great  not  the  same  as  our  feeling 
for  our  most  intimate  friend.  Each  stands  in  a differ- 
ent relation  to  the  self.  There  is,  as  it  were,  a distinct 
side  of  the  self  found  in  each,  or  if  not  a distinct  side, 
then  more  of  the  self  is  projected  into  one  than  into 
another.  There  will  be,  therefore,  as  many  varieties 
of  qualitative  feeling  as  there  are  objects  of  knowledge 
or  ends  of  action. 

Treatment  of  Qualitative  Feeling.  — Yet  it  is  possi- 
ble to  form  a general  classification  of  feelings  in  their 
quality  of  interests.  Interests  may  be  classified,  first, 
on  the  basis  of  their  connection  with  objects,  according 
to  the  greater  or  less  range  of  these  objects.  As  our 
ideas  come  to  include  more  and  more  in  their  scope, 
the  feelings  integrated  with  them  get  a similar  exten- 
sion. While  the  mere  feeling  is  particular,  because 
isolated,  interests  are  universal  through  their  connec- 
tion with  the  content  of  ideas.  Furthermore,  the 


278 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


mere  feeling  is  of  necessity  vague.  It  has  no  rela- 
tions which  define  it  to  intelligence.  But  every  act 
necessarily  brings  matters  to  a head,  to  a focus. 
The  sight  of  a beautiful  flower  may  awaken  a vague 
shock  or  a diffused  wave  of  emotion  ; the  feelings 
connected  with  the  attempt  to  paint  it,  or  scientifi- 
cally to  analyze  it,  will  get  a limited,  distinct  char- 
acter through  this  associated  activity.  Secondly, 
then,  interests  are  defined  feelings.  We  shall  study 
the  development  of  qualitative  feeling  therefore : I. 
As  growing  more  universal ; II.  As  growing 
more  definite.  These  are  the  lines  along  which 
feeling  normally  develops,  but  as  variations  arise, 
we  have:  III.  Abnormal  feelings;  IY.  Conflict  of 
feelings. 

I.  Growth  of  Feeling  in  Universality.  — Our  first 
feelings  may  be  called  purely  personal,  and  personality 
is  here  confined  to  one’s  organism.  Such  are  the  feel- 
ings accompanying  the  various  forms  of  bodily  activity, 
of  the  appetites,  of  muscular  action,  of  the  eye  and  ear, 
etc.  But  the  self  is  something  more  than  a body.  It 
enlarges  itself,  grows  wider  and  deeper  with  every  ex- 
perience, and  with  every  enlargement  of  the  self  must 
go  a corresponding  increase  of  the  scope  of  feeling. 
We  have  to  study  a few  aspects  of  the  growth.  We 
shall  consider  (1)  the  widening;  (2)  the  deepening  of 
feeling. 

1.  The  Widening  of  Feeling. — Our  first  feelings  are 
limited,  as  already  said,  to  those  connected  with  bodily 
activity — to  sensuous  affection.  The  first  step  in  the 
widening  of  feeling  comes  about  through 

(1.)  The  Transference  of  Emotion. — All  that  comes 
within  the  range  of  one  apperceptive  act  will  be  colored 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  279 

by  the  feeling  which  immediately  and  intrinsically  be- 
longs to  only  one  factor  of  the  act.  The  pleasure,  at 
first  purely  sensuous,  which  the  child  gets  from  his 
food,  becomes  extended  to  his  nurse,  to  the  utensils 
employed,  etc.,  and  thus  becomes  somewhat  objectified. 
The  pleasure  is  no  longer  purely  personal.  The  child 
does  not  feel  pleasure  in  his  nurse  because  she  is  con- 
sciously recognized  as  the  source  of  his  pleasure  in  food- 
taking, but  the  feeling  is  instinctively  transferred  to  her 
as  the  child’s  range  of  experience  is  widened  to  include 
her.  There  is  no  limit  to  this  widening  of  emotion 
through  increase  of  factors  involved  in  the  same  act. 
The  result,  of  course,  may  be  trivial  and  accidental,  as 
when  the  feeling  relates  to  some  memento ; but  if  the 
various  factors  of  the  act  have  some  necessary  internal 
relation  to  each  other,  it  may  be  important  and  endur- 
ing. A child’s  feeling  for  his  parents,  for  example,  is 
largely  the  result  of  this  widening  of  feeling  through 
transference.  Their  connection  with  his  whole  life  on 
all  its  sides  is  so  intimate  that  something  becomes  trans- 
ferred to  them  out  of  almost  every  experience. 

(2.)  Symbolism  of  Feeling. — Feeling  is  at  first  trans- 
ferred to  include  that  which  is  directly  involved  in 
the  same  apperceptive  act  with  that  which  originally 
awakens  the  feeling,  but  in  its  growth  it  is  transferred 
to  that  which  is  also  symbolically  connected.  The 
word  “home”  symbolizes  great  ranges  of  emotion. 
The  sight  of  a flag  calls  up  the  deepest  and  most  ear- 
nest feelings  of  patriotism  ; a crucifix  may  stir  religious 
emotion  to  its  very  depths.  In  such  cases  there  has 
been  no  direct  transference  by  the  inclusion  of  the 
same  factors  in  one  act  of  perception.  The  transfer- 
ence is  due  to  the  idealizing  action  of  imagination. 


280 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Just  as  any  intellectual  conception  tends  to  be  em- 
bodied in  a concrete  sensuous  image,  so  our  deepest 
sentiments  are  clustered  about  some  object  which  may 
symbolize  and  thus  unify  feeling  otherwise  vague  and 
scattered.  All  the  familiar  objects  of  our  life  thus  be- 
come saturated  with  mure  or  less  of  emotional  interest 
of  which  we  are  hardly  conscious  till  some  break  in 
our  experience  causes  it  to  discharge  itself. 

(3.)  Universal  Feelings. — Feelings  originating  through 
this  operation,  however,  are  still  more  or  less  contin- 
gent and  accidental.  They  extend  somewhat  beyond 
the  immediate  self  to  its  objective  and  more  universal 
relations,  yet  the  particular  form  which  they  take  is 
dependent  to  a large  degree  upon  unessential  elements 
of  experience.  It  happens  that  the  self  in  its  develop- 
ment comes  in  contact  with  objects  which  it  thus  sur- 
charges with  its  own  interests,  but  these  particular 
forms  are  not  absolutely  necessary  to  the  development 
of  the  self.  There  are  some  relations,  however,  with- 
out which  the  soul  would  remain  forever  undeveloped 
and  unrealized,  a mere  bundle  of  potential  capacities. 
There  are,  in  other  words,  universal  and  essential  realms 
of  experience  in  which  the  self  must  find  itself,  in  or- 
der to  be  a self  at  all.  There  thus  originate  classes  of 
feeling  universal  in  their  nature. 

Classes  of  Universal  Feelings. — S peak i ng  very  broad- 
ly it  may  be  said  that  without  relation  to  things  and  to 
persons  the  self  would  not  be  realized.  It  is  not  that 
the  self  realizes  itself  hy  means  of  these  relations,  but 
that  its  realization  takes  the  form  of  these  relations. 
The  universe  of  known  objects  is,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
objective  side  of  self.  But  in  the  world  of  things  the 
self  does  not  find  itself  wholly  manifested.  They  at 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  281 

most  are  but  things,  while  it  is  a person.  Without 
them  it  is  true  that  there  would  be  no  development, 
but  they  cannot  furnish  complete  development.  This 
can  occur  only  through  personal  relations.  It  is  only 
in  a soul  that  the  soul  finds  itself  completely  reflected ; 
it  is  only  through  relations  to  conscious  individuals 
that  one  becomes  himself  truly  a conscious  individual. 
Since  feeling  is  always  a feeling  of  self,  of  the  hinderance 
or  furtherance  of  self -development  through  activity, 
and  since  the  self  is  developed  in  virtue  of  its  relations 
with  things  and  with  persons,  it  follows  that  there  are 
two  kinds  of  universal  feeling,  impersonal,  and  personal 
or  social. 

Divisions  of  Impersonal  Feelings. — Impersonal  feel- 
ings may  be  subdivided  into  two  classes.  The  universe 
of  objects,  through  relations  to  which  the  mind  is  real- 
ized, may  be  regarded  as  actual  or  as  ideal,  and  these 
originate  accordingly  intellectual  and  aesthetic  feelings. 
There  are  the  sentiments  which  spring  from  or  answer 
to  our  desire  for  intellectual  satisfaction  ; and  there  are 
those  which  are  occasioned  by  our  need  of  aesthetic 
gratification.  Each  of  these  classes  will  be  considered, 
hereafter,  and  so  it  need  now  only  be  mentioned  that 
these  feelings  do  not  concern  two  wholly  different 
spheres,  but  two  aspects  of  the  same  sphere.  Objects 
may  be  felt  as  presenting  meaning,  and  as  stimulating 
to  the  search  for  meaning  ; that  is,  they  may  be  felt  as 
bearing  some  relation  to  each  other.  The  feelings 
which  gather  about  the  mutual  relations  of  objects  to 
each  other  are  intellectual.  Objects  may  also  be  felt  as 
embodying  beauty  and  as  stimuli  to  a search  for  beauty 
and  for  its  creation — that  is,  objects  may  be  felt  to  bear 
6ome  relation  to  an  ideal.  Feelings  which  cluster  about 


282 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  relations  of  objects , not  to  each  other,  but  to  an 
ideal , are  aesthetic. 

Special  Forms  of  Universal  Feelings. — The  concrete 
forms  of  (a)  intellectual,  ( b ) aesthetic,  and  (c)  personal 
feelings  will  be  studied  hereafter.  Attention  must  now 
be  called  to  the  fact  that  they  are  three  progressive 
stages  of  the  widening  of  feeling.  In  intellectual  feel- 
ing we  get  beyond  the  immediate  presence  of  the  sen- 
sation ; we  get  beyond  the  more  or  less  accidental  rela- 
tion of  self  to  objects  into  which  it  transfers,  irradiates, 
and  reflects  its  own  feelings;  we  get  into  those  feel- 
ings which  are  due  to  the  connection  of  objects  with 
each  other,  and  which  have,  therefore,  no  Immediate 
relation  to  the  individual  self.  They  are  the  feelings 
which  are  diie  to  the  development  of  the  universal  side 
of  self.  In  aesthetic  feeling  we  advance  beyond  this, 
and  feel  the  relation  which  some  experience  of  ours 
bears  to  an  ideal,  which  is  conceived  as  universal,  per- 
manent, and  out  of  the  reach  of  individual  desires  and 
impulses.  The  self  finds  itself  realized  in  what  ap- 
pears at  first  as  not-self.  It  is  taken  beyond  its  limi- 
tation to  its  immediate  sensuously-present  experience, 
and  transferred  to  a realm  of  enduring  and  indepen- 
dent relations.  It  marks  also  an  advance  beyond  in- 
tellectual feeling,  for  the  feeling  of  worth  or  value  is 
immediately  included  in  all  aesthetic  experience,  as  it  is 
not  in  intellectual. 

Social  Feeling. — In  social  feeling,  we  merge  our 
private  life  in  the  wider  life  of  the  community,  and, 
in  so  doing,  immensely  transcend  our  immediate  self 
and  realize  our  being  in  its  widest  way.  In  knowl- 
edge we  take  the  universe  of  objects  into  ourselves;  in 
aesthetic  perception  and  creation  we  take  the  universe 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  283 

of  ideal  worths  into  ourselves ; in  social  life,  we  make 
to  be  an  element  of  our  being  the  universe  of  personal 
and  spiritual  relations.  Only  thus,  in  any  true  sense, 
do  we  live  the  life  of  a developed  personality  at  all, 
and  thus  it  is  that  this  realm  of  experience  is  the 
widest  and  most  varied  upon  its  emotional  side. 

Finally,  feeling  finds1  its  absolutely  universal  expres- 
sion in  religious  emotion,  which  is  the  finding  or  real- 
ization of  self  in  a completely  realized  personality, 
which  unites  in  itself  truth,  or  the  complete  unity  of 
the  relations  of  all  objects ; beauty,  or  the  complete 
unity  of  all  ideal  values ; and  rightness,  or  the  com- 
plete unity  of  all  persons.  The  emotion  which  ac- 
companies the  religious  life  is  that  which  accompa- 
nies the  completed  activity  of  ourselves  ; the  self  is  real- 
ized, and  finds  its  true  life  in  God.  In  sensuous  feeling 
we  find  our  self  expressed  in  organic  processes ; in  intel- 
lectual feeling  we  find  our  self  expressed  in  the  objec- 
tive relations  of  the  world  ; in  aesthetic  feeling  we  feel 
our  self  expressed  in  ideal  values ; in  social  feeling  we 
find  our  self  expressed  in  persons ; in  religious  feeling 
we  find  our  self  expressed  in  God.  We  feel  our  self 
identified,  one  in  life,  with  the  ultimate,  universal  re- 
ality. 

2.  Deepening  of  Emotional  Disposition. — The  sec- 
ond element  in  the  universalizing  of  feeling  is  its 
deepening.  Feeling  not  only  widens  by  extension  to 
larger  ranges  of  experience,  but  it  also  grows  more  in- 
tense in  itself.  A child’s  feeling  is  quite  fickle  and 
superficial.  It  is  easily  excited,  and  as  easily  appeased 
or  transformed.  There  is  no  stability  of  emotional 
life.  Fixation  of  feeling  is  as  foreign  to  a child  as  fix- 
ation of  attention.  Every  adult,  however,  has  perma- 


281 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


pent  and  deeply  founded  modes  of  emotional  response. 
He  has  an  emotional  character  as  well  as  an  intellect- 
ual. Hot  all  objects  excite  feelings  equally  ; some  are 
relatively  indifferent,  and  others  affect  him  to  the 
depths  of  his  being.  Feeling  returns  upon  itself,  and 
forms  a disposition. 

Process  of  Deepening. — Some  of  the  steps  of  the 
process  may  be  considered.  First  there  is  increasing 
adaptation  for  emotion  in  a certain  direction.  Every 
exercise  modifies  the  organ  used  in  a certain  way,  and 
leaves  it  in  a condition  to  act  again  in  a similar  di- 
rection more  easily.  The  act  of  attention  or  memory, 
which  was  at  first  difficult,  becomes  easy  with  rep- 
etition, and  the  result  is  that  feeling  moves  along 
that  groove  rather  than  elsewhere.  Feeling  which 
originally  was  diffused  and  superficial,  tending  to  at- 
tach itself  slightly  everywhere,  becomes  concentrated 
and  deepened.  Less  stimulus  is  henceforth  required  to 
call  out  the  feeling  in  this  direction.  A child  who  con- 
stantly indulges  in  spiteful  acts  towards  others,  finds 
a constantly  lessening  provocation  sufficient  to  induce 
anger.  So  with  benevolence  or  regret,  or  any  emo- 
tional characteristic. 

Emotional  Disposition. — The  result  of  this  develop- 
ment, through  repeated  and  frequent  experiences,  is 
that  there  comes  to  be  formed  certain  permanent  groups 
of  emotional  responses  which  color  the  person’s  char- 
acter. Just  as,  in  the  intellectual  life,  the  frequent  oc- 
currence of  any  act  of  apperception  leads  not  only  to 
an  easier  recurrence  of  the  same  act,  but  to  the  forma- 
tion of  an  apperceptive  organ,  which  tends  to  appre- 
hend experiences  of  that  nature  rather  than  others,  so 
channels  of  feeling  are  worn  along  which  the  emotions 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  285 

all  tend  to  discharge  themselves.  The  individual  forms 
dispositions,  organs  of  feeling.  His  emotional  life  be- 
comes organized  in  certain  ways.  It  is  these  emotional 
dispositions  which,  taken  under  the  control  of  will  and 
made  subservient  to  certain  lines  of  conduct,  consti- 
tute character. 

Idealization  and  Retention. — It  will  be  evident  that 
the  widening  of  feeling  corresponds  to  the  idealizing 
activities  of  apperception,  while  its  deepening  is  analo- 
gous to  retention.  Feeling  becomes  wide  as  it  extends 
over  more  comprehensive  ranges  of  objects  of  experi- 
ence; it  becomes  deep  as  it  returns  into  the  self  or 
subject,  and  is  organized  into  its  very  emotional  struct- 
ure. The  two  processes  are  also  related  to  each  other 
as  the  corresponding  intellectual  processes.  Each  re- 
quires the  other  for  its  own  development.  Religious 
and  moral  feelings,  which  are  the  widest  of  all,  are 
also,  when  genuine,  the  deepest.  Being  the  widest, 
there  is  no  experience  which  does  not  involve  them 
to  a certain  extent,  and  the  result  is  that  every  activity 
performed  strengthens  in  some  way  the  feeling  in  that 
special  direction.  Where  a feeling  is  deepened  and 
intensified  at  the  expense  of  its  comprehensiveness, 
when  a narrow  feeling  is  dwelt  upon  and  given  prom- 
inence, the  result  is  its  isolation,  a split  in  our  nature 
and  resulting  unhealthy  character  and  action.  Healthy 
feeling  deepens  only  as  it  widens. 

II.  Growth  in  Definiteness  of  Feeling. — Along  with 
the  growth  of  feeling  in  comprehensiveness  and  in 
depth,  goes  a growth  in  definiteness,  that  is,  in  dis- 
tinctness of  content.  Feeling,  when  undeveloped,  is 
exceedingly  vague  and  diffuse.  But  it  has  already 
been  noticed  that  growth  of  feeling  in  definiteness 


286 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


depends  upon  its  connection  with  the  will,  with  ends 
of  action.  Objects  are  constantly  becoming,  through 
their  connection  with  feeling,  springs  to  action.  This 
process  reacts  upon  the  feeling  and  makes  it  more 
definite.  We  have  just  seen  how  wider  ranges  of  ex- 
perience are  taken  into  the  emotional  realm.  We  have 
now  to  see  that,  when  so  included,  they  render  feeling 
specific  or  organized. 

Illustration. — A child,  for  example,  eats  an  orange 
for  the  first  time.  This  action  gratifies  his  organic  nat- 
ure and  occasions  pleasure.  This  pleasure  is  hence- 
forth an  integral  part  of  his  conception  of  an  orange. 
But  this  idea  of  the  orange  as  agreeable  now  becomes 
a spring  to  future  activity.  The  procuring  and  eating 
of  oranges  is  now  one  motive  to  action.  The  result  is 
that  the  organic  feeling  of  pleasure  which  were  other- 
wise exceedingly  vague  now  becomes  definite;  it  gath- 
ers about  this  special  line  of  action.  In  our  entire 
emotional  life  feeling  is  differentiating  itself  and  be- 
coming distinct  in  just  this  way.  Nothing  in  our  men- 
tal life  is  so  impalpable,  so  hard  to  grasp,  as  feeling 
which  has  not  become  distinct  through  connection  with 
some  specific  end  of  action. 

Differentiation  of  Interests. — There  thus  arises  a 
differentiation  of  interests.  Every  object  that  comes 
within  our  experience  gets  some  emotional  coloring,  as 
it  helps  or  hinders  that  experience.  It  thus  gains  a 
special  and  unique  interest  of  its  own.  We  have  al- 
ready had  occasion  to  mention  what  diverse  forms  these 
interests  may  take  (page  277).  It  is  only  necessary  now 
to  mention  in  addition  that  an  object,  as  soon  as  it  has 
become  interesting,  becomes  an  end  of  action  in  itself. 
It  may  be  food  in  general,  or  some  special  form  of 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  287 

food;  it  may  be  power,  physical  or  political;  it  may 
be  knowledge,  technical  or  of  some  line  of  science;  it 
may  be  money  or  fame  or  influence.  And  each  of 
these  ends  may  thus  subdivide  itself  into  thousands  of 
more  specific  forms,  depending  upon  the  individual 
himself.  As  the  end  becomes  more  specific,  the  feel- 
ing connected  with  it  becomes  more  definite. 

Two  Forms  of  Definite  Feeling. — Of  the  feelings 
thus  differentiated,  by  virtue  of  their  association  with 
specific  ends  of  action,  two  forms  may  be  recognized. 
As  the  feeling  connected  with  the  experience  may  be 
either  pleasurable  or  painful,  so  the  end  may  be  felt  as 
desirable  or  as  hateful.  Feeling  thus  specifies  itself  into 
likes  and  dislikes , loves  and  hates.  Any  object  what- 
ever may  become  an  object  of  love  or  of  hatred,  though 
it  is  usual  to  restrict  these  terms  to  higher  objects. 
The  generic  term  expressing  the  relation  of  feeling 
to  definite  objects  is  affection.  We  have  affection  of 
some  kind,  accordingly,  for  every  element  coming 
within  our  experience.  Love  or  liking  alone  is  a pos- 
itive spring  to  action  ; it  tends  to  create  or  produce 
the  object  needed  to  satisfy  the  affection.  Hate  is  de- 
structive, and  tends  to  put  out  of  the  way  all  which  is 
felt  as  hindering  the  realization  of  self. 

Definiteness  and  Universality . — -Aside  from  extrinsic 
and  accidental  sources  of  affection  for  objects  of  expe- 
rience, it  is  possible  to  recognize  certain  general  groups 
of  likings,  fixed  by  the  growth  of  feeling  in  universal- 
ity. Universality  does  not  mean  mere  broadness;  it 
means  closer  and  more  comprehensive  relations  with 
self.  It  means  the  enlarging  of  the  interests  of  self  to 
recognize  more  and  more  as  identified  with  self.  It  , 
is  in  no  way  opposed,  therefore,  to  growth  of  definite- 


288 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ness  of  feeling.  Our  loves  and  hatreds,  our  affections, 
become  more  definite  as  our  feelings  correspond  to 
wider  growths  of  the  soul.  dSTo  one  would  speak  of 
loving  very  definitely  something  which  satisfied  the 
narrower  activities  of  self — the  organic,  as  food  and 
drink.  One  loves  a beautiful  work  of  art  more  dis- 
tinctly than  he  does  a proposition  in  geometry ; and 
he  loves  a person  more  than  either;  while  the  only 
perfectly  definite  object  of  love  can  be  alone  the  ab- 
solutely ideal  self;  the  absolutely  universalized  per- 
sonality, or  God.  It  will  be  noticed,  therefore,  that 
definiteness  of  feeling  must  be  discriminated  from  in- 
tensity of  feeling.  It  often  happens  that  the  more 
intense  a feeling  is,  as  an  appetite,  the  less  definite 
it  is. 

Love  as  Completely  Qualitative  Feeling.  — It  was 
shown,  in  the  early  part  of  this  chapter,  that  qualita- 
tive feeling  originates  in  the  objectification  of  self;  it 
is  the  internal  side  of  this  objectification.  It  follows 
that  feeling  must  take  upon  itself  the  form  of  liking 
or  love.  Liking  is  essentially  an  active  feeling;  it  is 
the  outgoing  of  the  soul  to  an  object.  It  is  the  giving 
up  of  the  immediate  or  personal  self,  and  its  fixation 
upon  something  which  is  beyond  the  immediate  self. 
It  is  somewhat  so  in  the  lowest  likings — the  likings  for 
food  and  drink  ; for  these  are  affections  for  something 
which  are  necessary  to  develop  the  body ; likings  for 
something  of  which  it  is  not  immediately  in  posses- 
sion. The  fact  is  more  clearly  shown,  however,  as  we 
rise  in  the  scale  of  likings,  and  it  finds  its  complete 
illustration  in  the  fact  that  moral  and  religious  love 
require  a complete  surrender  of  one’s  particular  and 
subjective  interests,  with  devotion  to  what  is  regarded 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  289 


as  the  permanent  and  universal,  the  thoroughly  objec- 
tive, self. 

III.  Abnormal  Feelings. — Before  passing  on  to  the 
concrete  forms  of  qualitative  feeling,  we  must  notice 
the  principles  upon  which  abnormal  or  morbid  feel- 
ings are  based.  All  natural,  healthy  feeling  is  ab- 
sorbed in  the  object  or  in  the  action.  Healthy  feel- 
ing never  has  an  independent  existence  in  conscious- 
ness. Even  sense-feelings  are  absorbed.  The  pleasure 
of  eating  an  orange  seems  a part  of  the  orange.  The 
pleasure  which  we  derive  from  healthy  bodily  existence 
and  activity  we  are  not  reflectively  conscious  of  (page 
254),  but  it  is  the  sense  of  life  itself.  All  other  feelings, 
as  we  have  seen,  cluster  about  objects,  and  are  lost  in 
the  objects;  or  they  serve  as  springs  to  action,  in  the 
form  of  affections.  As  Mr.  Martineau  says,  feelings 
are  mere  functions  of  an  integral  life,  and  there  is  an 
inevitable  penalty  attached  to  every  attempt  to  detach 
them  from  this  position,  and  live  upon  some  particular 
order  of  feeling. 

Self-conscious  Feeling. — Feeling  is  unhealthy,  there- 
fore, when  set  free  from  its  absorption  in  the  object 
or  in  the  end  of  action,  and  given  a separate  existence 
in  consciousness.  We  see  this  in  the  case  of  bodily 
disease  or  fatigue,  when  alone  we  are  conscious  of  the 
separate  existence  of  any  organic  feeling ; and  we  see 
it  in  the  higher  sentiments.  Feelings  of  knowledge 
are  normally  lost  in  the  objects  known ; aesthetic  feel- 
ings, in  the  beautiful  object  created  or  contemplated  ; 
moral  feelings,  in  the  outgoing  activity  which  the  af- 
fection for  them  induces.  Normal  feelings,  in  short, 
are  regarded  as  real  values  in  the  objects  which  excite 
them,  or  exist  only  as  springs  to  action  ; they  subserve 
13 


290 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


conduct.  Cut  loose  from  their  connections,  they  occa- 
sion what  is  called  “ self-consciousness,”  in  a bad  sense 
of  the  term,  when  the  individual  is  unduly  conscious 
of  the  reference  which  feelings  have  to  him  as  an  indi- 
vidual. True  self-consciousness,  as  we  have  learned  to 
see,  is  objectified  in  ideas  and  actions;  and  it  is  only 
when  the  feelings  are  separated  from  their  proper  ob- 
jective and  volitional  position,  and  are  made  indepen- 
dent factors  in  consciousness,  that  the  “self-conscious- 
ness,” which  is  the  mark  of  an  undue  interest  in  some 
form  of  one’s  own  special  and  peculiar  characteristics, 
arises.  There  may  be,  of  course,  as  many  degenerate 
forms  of  feeling,  that  is,  of  “ self-consciousness,”  as 
there  are  normal  forms. 

IY.  Conflict  of  Feeling. — All  isolation  of  feeling  is 
not  only  unhealthy  in  itself,  but  leads  to  conflict  of 
feelings.  We  have  already  noticed  some  forms  of  con- 
flicting feelings,  so  far  as  these  are  due  to  the  form  of 
activity  (page  2GA).  We  have  now  to  notice  that  there 
is  a more  or  less  permanent  conflict  of  feelings  result- 
ing from  the  opposition  of  some  particular  individual 
interest  to  some  more  universal  one.  When  we  were 
studying  the  development  of  qualitative  feeling  as  in- 
creasing in  universality  and  definiteness,  we  were  study- 
ing its  normal  law.  As  we  have  just  seen,  feeling  may 
also  be  abnormal,  that  is  to  say,  not  increase  in  univer- 
sality and  definiteness.  The  feelings  of  an  individual, 
instead  of  centring  more  and  more  upon  objects  which 
constitute  the  pain  and  pleasure  of  all,  may  be  concen- 
trated more  and  more  upon  such  as  concern  his  purely 
personal  self.  Instead  of  being  made  springs  to  ac- 
tions which  will  take  him  outside  of  himself,  he  may 
dwell  upon  the  feelings  as  states  of  his  own  private 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  291 

consciousness,  and  be  led  only  to  such  actions  as  have 
reference  to  his  own  particular  enjoyment.  But  as 
this  individual  has  necessarily  a universal  as  well  as  a 
particular  side,  this  results  in  a breach  of  his  activities, 
and  consequent  conflict  of  feeling. 

Illustration. — Take,  for  example,  one  who  has  what 
we  may  call  an  abnormal  organic  consciousness;  one 
who  has  learned  to  pay  attention  to  his  own  bodily 
feelings,  and  to  make  them  the  end  of  action,  instead  of 
regarding'  them  as  mere  tokens  of  the  well-being  of  his 
organism.  Such  a one  has  isolated  these  feelings,  and, 
instead  of  paying  attention  to  them  so  far  as  they  re- 
late to  his  own  true  development,  he  makes  them  an 
end  in  themselves.  Such,  for  example,  is  the  case  with 
a voluptuary ; such  is  the  case  with  one  who,  for  the 
satisfaction  of  his  own  feelings,  has  formed  the  alco- 
holic habit.  The  gratification  of  these  interests  un- 
doubtedly results  in  pleasure.  Pleasure  always  accom- 
panies every  development,  every  expansion  of  self,  and 
such  an  individual  is  indulging  the  particular,  private 
side  of  himself.  Yet,  even  in  purely  organic  matters, 
he  has  a universal  side.  His  body  should  conform  to 
law , and  law  is  universal.  The  result  of  a constant 
neglect  of  this  universal  side  is  pain,  disease,  possibly 
destruction  of  the  organism.  In  gratifying  the  purely 
particular  side  of  his  nature,  he  gets  pleasure;  but,  as 
this  gratification  disorganizes  the  universal  side,  that 
which  connects  him  with  the  laws  of  the  universe,  he 
gets  ultimate  pain.  There  is  conflict  of  feeling. 

Illustration  in  Social  Feeling. — Or,  upon  a higher 
plane,  suppose  that  one  has  made  the  pleasures  which 
come  from  money-getting  an  end  in  themselves ; sup- 
pose he  has  isolated  them  from  his  integral  being,  and 


292 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


makes  bis  life  to  consist  in  their  gratification.  From 
such  a course,  since  he  thus  manifests  and  furthers 
one  side  of  his  being,  he  undoubtedly  gets  pleasure. 
Yet,  in  so  doing,  he  violates  the  universal  side  of  his 
being — the  law  which  connects  him  with  his  fellow- 
men.  As  the  well-being  of  his  organism  consists  in 
conformity  to  the  law  of  the  organism,  so  the  true 
well-being  of  his  social  nature  consists  in  conformity 
with  the  law  of  the  identification  of  himself  and  of  his 
interests  with  other  men.  So  far  as  he  subordinates 
them  and  their  interests  to  his  own  particular  wants, 
he  is  neglecting  and  disintegrating  the  universal  side 
of  himself,  and  the  result  must  be  pain.  There  is, 
again,  necessary  conflict  of  feeling. 

Twofold  Conflict. — Yet  it  will  be  noticed  that  there 
is  a difference  in  the  two  cases.  In  the  first  case,  the 
individual  must  ultimately  feel  particular  pains  of  dis- 
ease, etc.,  just  as  he  originally  felt  particular  pleasures. 
In  the  latter  case,  unless  his  greed  for  his  own  private 
pleasures  goes  so  far  as  to  bring  him  in  contact  with 
social  law  which  has  become  physical — the  courts  and 
their  penalty — he  may  not  feel  any  such  particular 
pains.  What  he  feels  is  rather  loss,  dissatisfaction, 
misery.  His  feelings  of  pain  are  rather  negative  than 
positive ; he  feels  the  loss  of  higher  pleasure,  rather 
than  of  actual  pain.  There  may  be,  therefore,  a con- 
flict between  particular  pleasures  and  pains,  or  a con- 
flict between  pleasures  and  a higher  general  feeling  of 
well-being,  whose  loss  may  be  occasioned  by  the  attain- 
ment of  particular  pleasures.  This  leads  us  to  recog- 
nize a distinction  between  'pleasure  and  happiness. 

Pleasure  and  Happiness. — The  self  is  not  a bare 
unity,  but  is  a very  complex  organism,  uniting  physi- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  293 

cal,  intellectual,  aesthetic,  social,  moral,  and  religious 
interests.  Now,  in  acting  to  gratify  any  one  of  these 
interests,  pleasure  will  necessarily  result,  but  not  nec- 
essarily happiness.  Pleasure  will  follow  because  the 
self  has  been  expressed,  has  been  realized  in  some  one 
way.  But  the  expression  of  this  particular  side  of  our 
nature  may  be  in  conflict  with  others  ; one  physical  ac- 
tivity may  be  in  conflict  with  another,  or  may  be  in 
conflict  with  an  intellectual  interest.  The  satisfaction 
of  one  may  result  in  lack  of  satisfaction,  non-realiza- 
tion of  the  others.  So  there  will  be  no  happiness. 
Pleasure,  in  short,  is  transitory  and  relative,  enduring- 
only  while  some  special  activity  endures,  and  having 
reference  only  to  that  activity.  Happiness  is  per- 
manent and  universal.  It  results  only  when  the  act 
is  such  a one  as  will  satisfy  all  the  interests  of  the 
self  concerned,  or  will  lead  to  no  conflict,  either  pres- 
ent or  remote.  Happiness  is  the  feeling  of  the  whole 
self,  as  opposed  to  the  feeling  of  some  one  aspect  of 
self. 

Opposition  of  Pleasure  and  Happiness. — There  will 
be  pleasure  whenever  there  is  any  excitation  which  is 
passively  enjoyed.  A life  of  pleasure-seeking  inevita- 
bly becomes  a life  of  search  for  passive  enjoyments,  for 
irritations.  Happiness  is  active  satisfaction,  or  interest. 
Pleasure,  since  isolated,  comes  into  conflict  with  happi- 
ness, for  happiness  is  always  built  upon  an  active  unifi- 
cation of  various  acts  into  a whole  life.  On  the  other 
hand,  happiness  may  coexist  with  pain.  A man  who 
has  lost  money  will  feel  pain,  for  he  has  been  deprived 
of  one  mode  of  action ; but  he  may  continue  to  be 
happy.  He  may  not  feel  the  loss  as  a loss  of  himself. 
If  he  is  thoroughly  identified  with  more  universal  and 


294 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


permanent  interests,  intellectual,  aesthetic,  social,  etc., 
he  will  not  so  feel  it. 

The  Actual  and  the  Ideal  Self. — So  far  as  the  more 
universal  self  has  not  been  realized,  so  far  as  the  indi- 
vidual has  not  succeeded  in  identifying  himself  thor- 
oughly with  the  wider  and  more  permanent  conditions 
of  well-being,  but  still  finds  his  pleasure  in  activities 
which  can  relate  only  to  particular,  limited  sides  of  his 
nature,  the  universal  self  remains  only  an  ideal,  and 
there  is  a conflict,  a dualism  between  it  and  the  actual- 
ly realized  self.  There  will  also  be,  therefore,  a con- 
flict of  feelings,  so  long  as  this  ideal  self  is  not  real- 
ized. Pleasure  is  not  a sign  of  well-being  in  itself  ; in 
an  unhealthy  soul,  as  in  an  unhealthy  body,  it  may  be 
at  times  a token  of  disorder,  or  of  degeneration.  It 
may  signify  that  some  organic  factor  is  acting  in  ac- 
cordance with  its  natural  or  acquired  nature,  but  that 
this  factor  is  isolated  from  the  entire  organism,  and, 
acting  independently  of  it,  must  lead  to  final  disinte- 
gration, or  lack  of  harmony,  unhappiness.  The  satis- 
faction of  the  actual  self  may  result  in  loss  of  the  ideal, 
the  universal.  Happiness,  on  the  other  hand,  is  at  all 
times  a sign  of  well-being.  It  is,  indeed,  the  internal 
side  of  well-being.  It  is  realization  of  one’s  true,  per- 
manent nature  brought  home  to  him  as  an  individual. 
We  have  now  to  pass  on  to  the  treatment  of  the  spe- 
cific forms  of  qualitative  feeling,  the  intellectual,  the 
aesthetic,  and  the  social. 

Upon  the  nature  and  laws  of  qualitative  feeling  in  general,  see  Nahlowsky 
(op.  cit.),  pp.  1-44, 68-81 ; Braubach  (op.  cit.),  pp.  48-87 ; Horwicz  (op.  cit.'),  vol. 
ii.,  pt.  1,  pp.  1-88;  Lotze,  “Elements  of  Psychology,”  pp.  73-83;  “Microcos- 
mus,"  pp.  240-248  ; Ilerbart  (op.  cit.),  pt.  2,  ch.  iv. ; Sullj',  “ Psychology,”  ch. 
xi. ; Carpenter  (op.  cit.),  ch.  vii. ; Maudsley  (op.  cit.),  ch.  vi. ; Spencer  (op.  cit.), 
vol.  i.,  pp.  472-494 ; Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  298-353 ; Drobisch,  “ Em- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  QUALITATIVE  FEELINGS.  295 


pirische  Psychologic,”  pp.  172-219 ; James,  in  Mind , vol.  ix.,  p.  1S8,  on  “ What 
is  an  Emotion?”  Mercier,  in  Mind , vol.  ix.,  pp.  325  and  509,  and  vol.  x.,  p.  1, 
on  “Classification  of  Feelings.”  General  treatises  upon  the  emotions  are: 
McCosh,  “Emotions;”  Maillet,  “De  l’Essence  des  Passions;”  Maass,  “Ver- 
sueh  fiber  die  Liedenschaften ;”  Kehr,  “Ueber  das  Gemiith;”  Jungmann, 
“Das  Gemiith;”  Krause,  “Die  Gesetze  des  menschlichen  Herzens.”  Special 
discussions  upon  the  nature  of  interest  are  George  (op.  cit .),  p.  544  ff. ; Erd- 
mann (op.  cit.),  ch.  xiii. ; Beneke  (op.  cit.),  pp.  301-310;  Bradley,  in  Mind, 
vol.  viii.,  p.  573,  and  passim  in  Maudsley’s  “ Pathology  of  Mind.”  More  par- 
ticularly upon  pleasure  and  pain,  see  Hamilton  (op.  cit.),  lects.  xlii.-xliv. ; 
Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  304-323 ; Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  272-290 ; Bain 
(op.  cit.),  pp.  288-300;  Martineau,  “Types  of  Ethical  Theory,”  vol.  ii.,  pp. 
297-307;  Bradley,  “Ethical  Studies,”  pp.  78-144;  Green,  “Prolegomena  to 
Ethics,”  pp.  233-255;  Laurie,  “Ethica,”  pp.  93-104;  Sully,  “ Pessimism,”  ch. 
xi.;  Dumont,  “ Theorie  Scientifique  de  la  Sensibilite;”  Delbouef,  “ Theorie 
de  la  Sensibilite;”  Grote,  “Psychologie  de  la  Sensibilite;”  Bouillier,  “Le 
Plaisir  et  la  Douleur;”  Schneider,  “Freud  und  Leid;”  Rolph,  “Biologische 
Probleme.” 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 

Definition  and  Treatment. — Intellectual  feelings  are 
such.  as  accompany  our  apprehension  of  'the  meaning 
of  experience.  Meaning  taken  by  itself  is  universal ; 
it  is  that  relation  of  objects  to  each  other  which  makes 
them  significant  of  each  other;  but  as  this  meaning 
always  exists  in  the  medium  of  individual  conscious- 
ness, it  is  felt  meaning.  Objects  not  only  signify  each 
other,  but  they  signify  this  to  us.  Experience  has  a 
meaning  not  only  in  that  objects  are  connected  with 
each  other,  but  also  as  it  is  connected  with  ourselves. 
Experience  is  feeling,  therefore,  as  well  as  knowledge  ; 
for  feeling,  in  ultimate  definition,  is  simply  this  inti- 
mate connection  with  self.  That  factor  of  emotional 
experience  which  has  to  do  with  the  value  which  re- 
lations between  objects  have  for  us  constitutes  intellect- 
ual feeling.  We  shall  take  up,  first,  its  general  nat- 
ure ; second,  intellectual  feeling  as  an  outgoing  energy, 
a spring  to  action  ; third,  the  objective  side  of  intel- 
lectual feeling,  the  intellectual  judgment. 

I.  General  N ature  of  Intellectual  Feeling.- — Intellec- 
tual feeling  is  not  to  be  considered  a special  form  of 
feeling,  occurring  now  and  then  in  our  experience. 
There  is  no  experience  which  does  not  have  involved 
in  it  some  relation,  and  there  is  no  experience,  there- 
fore, which  does  not  involve  intellectual  feeling.  Looked 
at  on  its  internal  or  subjective  side,  out  whole  psychi- 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 


297 


cal  life  is  a succession  of  intellectual  feelings.  Those 
who  fail  to  see  the  objective  or  universal  side  of  con- 
sciousness reduce  the  self,  therefore,  to  a series  of  feel- 
ings. As  my  individual  possession,  all  consciousness 
is  feeling.  An  act  of  perception,  an  act  of  memory, 
an  act  of  imagination,  an  act  of  thinking,  an  act  of  in- 
tuition, each  and  all  are  feelings,  for  they  are  states  of 
my  unique,  unsharable  consciousness. 

All  knowledge  whatever  exists  dissolved  in  the  me- 
dium of  feeling.  Knowledge  is  an  affair  not  only  of 
objective  relations,  but  of  value  for  me.  It  bears  an 
indescribable,  absolutely  personal  relation  to  me,  so 
that  while  you  may  know  exactly  the  same  that  I know, 
my  knowledge  cannot  possibly  be  your  knowledge. 
The  content  of  each  consciousness  may  be  absolutely 
identical,  but  the  form  of  each,  the  fact  that  one  is 
mine  and  the  other  yours,  is  absolutely  distinct.  Feel- 
ing, therefore,  is  not  a psychical  event  appearing  now 
and  then  in  consciousness.  It  is  the  individual  side  of 
all  consciousness.  Since  all  consciousness  has  a con- 
tent, that  is,  objective  relations,  all  feeling  must  also 
have  an  intellectual  element  involved. 

Classification  of  Intellectual  Feelings. — It  is,  accord- 
ingly, impossible  to  treat  intellectual  feeling  at  all  ex- 
haustively in  this  place.  As  its  scope  is  as  wide  as 
that  of  experience,  all  that  we  can  hope  to  do  is  to 
seek  out  some  broad  basis  of  division,  which,  however 
inadequate  to  the  complexity  of  actual  fact,  will  not 
misrepresent  it.  Such  a division  we  find  by  classifying 
feelings  according  as  they  originate  (1)  in  the  acquiring 
of  knowledge,  and  (2)  in  its  possession.  Such  a divi- 
sion will  be  seen  to  correspond  in  a general  way  to  the 
distinction  made  under  the  head  of  knowledge  between 
13* 


298 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


apperception  and  retention.  Some  feelings  are  due  to 
the  process  by  which  we  learn  to  know  the  world ; 
others  are  due  to  the  result  of  this,  to  the  organization 
of  knowledge  into  the  structure  of  our  minds. 

1.  Feelings  of  Acquisition. — These  correspond  quite 
closely  to  the  formal  feelings  already  studied,  except 
that  we  now  treat  them  as  expressing  the  internal  side 
of  the  knowledge  acquired,  while  formerly  we  treated 
them  as  the  internal  side  of  the  activity  put  forth  in 
acquiring  knowledge.  They  may  be  considered  as 
connected  either  with  knowledge  acquired  through  as- 
sociation, through  dissociation,  or  through  attention. 
The  former  are  the  feelings  of  custom  ; the  second,  the 
feelings  of  surprise ; the  third,  the  feelings  of  likeness 
and  difference. 

(1.)  The  function  of  association  being  mechanical, 
and  consisting  in  rendering  certain  combinations  ha- 
bitual and  automatic,  the  feelings  which  accompany 
the  acquisition  of  knowledge  through  association  are 
those  of  habit  and  routine.  A mind  governed  for 
the  most  part  by  associative  processes  has  a dry  and 
hard  emotional  life.  Such  minds  are  easy  only  when 
in  old  ruts,  and  nothing  is  so  disagreeable  as  the  unex- 
pected. 

(2.)  Feelings  of  Dissociation. — The  feeling  accom- 
panying knowledge  derived  from  the  breaking-up  of 
mechanical  associations  is  essentially  one  of  shock  or 
change.  Any  association  repeated  often  enough  be- 
comes fixed ; it  becomes  part  of  our  mental  furniture. 
We  may  not  expect  that  the  same  relation  will  continue 
forever,  for  expectation  presupposes  an  active  relation 
of  the  mind  to  experience,  but  we  unquestionably  take 
it  for  granted  that  it  will.  When  any  relation  turns 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 


299 


up  which  breaks  into  this  order,  hitherto  passively  ac- 
quiesced in,  there  is  a feeling  of  surprise.  Natures 
capable  of  constantly  feeling  surprise  are  much  more 
fresh  and  vigorous  on  their  emotional  side  than  those 
whose  sluggish  associations  are  not  easily  disturbed. 

Undeveloped  and  Abnormal  Feeling. — It  is  an  obser- 
vation as  old  as  Theophrastus  that  a boor  will  not  be 
moved  to  feeling  by  the  sight  of  a great  truth  or  of  a 
beautiful  statue  (because  he  does  not  really  see  them), 
but  that  he  will  stand  gaping  for  hours  watching  the 
movements  of  an  ox.  This  is  due  to  the  undeveloped 
state  of  feeling.  There  is  also  an  abnormal  condition, 
not  very  different  in  practical  result.  This  is  the  nil 
admirari  spirit;  the  feeling  that  there  is  nothing  in 
heaven  or  earth  which  can  surprise  one,  for  one  has 
gone  through  it  all.  Such  a mood  results  from  a ces- 
sation of  the  healthy  objectification  of  feelings,  and 
from  dwelling  upon  them  as  experiences  of  self,  until 
the  entire  capacity  for  freshness  of  feeling  has  been 
destroyed. 

Emotion  turned  inward  eats  up  itself ; and  the  result 
is  either  the  assumption  of  cynicism  and  the  nil  ad- 
mirari spirit,  or  the  restless  searching  for  some  new 
thing,  the  latest  sensation,  which  may  stimulate  the 
jaded  and  wornont  emotional  nature.  If  any  one  vio- 
lates the  law  of  his  being  by  living  upon  his  feelings, 
rather  than  upon  the  objects  to  which  those  feelings 
normally  belong,  his  power  of  feeling  becomes  gradu- 
ally exhausted,  and  he  defeats  his  own  end.  He  com- 
mits emotional  suicide.  There  has  probably  never  been 
a time  when  this  unhealthy  employment  of  feeling  was 
so  prevalent  as  it  is  now.  The  sole  remedy  is  for  <he 
man  to  get  outside  of  himself  by  devoting  himself  to 


300 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


some  object,  not  for  the  feelings  which  such  devotion 
will  bring  him,  nor  for  the  sake  of  getting  outside  of 
himself,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  object.  True  feeling, 
as  true  knowledge,  must  be  thoroughly  objective  and 
universal.  There  is  no  contradiction  between  this 
statement  and  the  one  that  feeling  is  the  internal,  the 
subjective  side  of  self,  for  the  true  self  finds  its  exist- 
ence in  objects  in  the  universe,  not  in  its  own  private 
states.  Although  it  does  and  must  have  these  private 
states,  it  pays  attention  to  them  only  for  the  sake  of 
their  universal  worth.  They  exist  not  for  their  own 
sake,  but  as  the  medium  through  which  the  universe 
makes  its  significance  and  value  apparent. 

(3.)  Feelings  of  Relation. — The  especial  function  of 
attention  is  to  unify  and  discriminate.  Accordingly  we 
have  the  feelings  accompanying  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  our  mental  experiences.  Every  identifi- 
cation is  accompanied  by  a peculiar  thrill  of  satisfac- 
tion ; a feeling  which  seems  to  be  a combination  of 
the  feelings  of  harmony  and  of  the  broadening-out  of 
the  mind  through  the  performed  identification.  There 
is  a like  feeling  of  satisfaction  accompanying  all  clear 
distinction.  When  knowledge,  previously  vague  and 
formless,  becomes  defined  and  sharply  limited,  there  is 
experienced  an  emotion  which  seems  to  be  a combina- 
tion of  the  formal  feeling  of  clearness  hitherto  spoken 
of,  and  the  feeling  of  having  reached  an  end.  For  all 
attention  is  directed  towards  the  development  of  self; 
it  has  an  end  at  which  it  aims,  and  the  reaching  of  this 
end  has  its  own  peculiar  emotion  of  satisfaction.  These 
feelings  of  relation  take,  of  course,  as  many  forms  as 
there  are  kinds  of  relation.  One  unique  feeling,  how- 
ever, is  that  of  wit,  which  seems  to  be  the  feeling  which 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 


301 


arises  when  ideas  are  identified  which  seem  wholly  dis- 
tinct, accompanied  by  a feeling  of  suddenness  and  sur- 
prise. When  the  identification  is  reached  by  a process 
of  reasoning  there  is  no  feeling  of  wit.  This  must  be 
an  intuitive  flash. 

2.  Feelings  of  Acquired  Knowledge. — There  is  not 
only  the  feeling  which  accompanies  the  acquiring  of 
knowledge,  but  there  is  that  which  accompanies  the 
possession  and  retention  of  knowledge.  In  its  charac- 
teristic form  it  is  a sense  of  ownership  and  of  power. 
It  may  take  a degenerate  form,  and  become  merely 
the  feeling  of  superiority  over  others,  of  political  power 
or  social  recognition  which  arises  from  the  knowledge. 
But  this  occurs  only  when  the  feeling  is  made  an  end 
in  itself.  Normally,  it  is  a feeling  that  we  possess 
ourselves  / that  we  have  become  masters  of  ourselves 
instead  of  being  controlled  by  external  impressions. 
It  is  a feeling  of  having  come  into  possession  of  our 
own  birthright.  It  has  been  said  that  the  great  advan- 
tage of  education  is  the  sense  which  it  gives  us  of  not 
being  dupes.  This  is  another  way  of  stating  the  truth 
that  the  emotion  which  arises  from  the  organization  of 
knowledge  into  self  is  one  of  self-ownership,  of  free- 
dom. 

Conflict  of  Intellectual  Feelings.  — As  our  life  is 
one  of  progressive  realization,  not  of  completed  devel- 
opment, of  growtli  rather  than  of  attained  being,  there 
comes  to  be  a conflict  of  intellectual  feelings.  So  far 
as  we  have  mastered  the  relations  which  constitute  the 
material  of  knowledge,  and  have  organized  these  into 
our  mental  structure,  there  are  the  feelings  of  satisfac- 
tion and  self-possession  already  spoken  of.  But  such 
relations  are  organically  connected  with  other  relations 


302 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


which  we  have  not  mastered..  There  arise,  accordingly, 
feelings  of  dissatisfaction  and  of  limitation.  Were  the 
world  divided  into  two  parts,  that  is  to  say,  were  there 
any  relations  which  were  not  necessarily  connected 
with  others,  as  parts  of  one  system,  such  feelings  would 
not  necessarily  arise.  But  since,  as  matter  of  fact,  all 
relations  are  thus  systematically  connected  in  one  whole, 
every  relation  known  brings  with  it  a dim  sense  of 
others  with  which  it  is  connected,  but  which  are  not 
known.  A feeling  of  knowledge  is  necessarily  ac- 
companied by  one  of  ignorance,  and  will  so  continue 
until  the  whole  organic  system  of  knowledge  is  mas- 
tered. 

Feelings  of  Ignorance. — A feeling  of  ignorance  is, 
therefore,  strictly  correlative  to  one  of  knowledge.  A 
feeling  of  knowledge  is  one  of  the  realized  self ; a 
feeling  of  ignorance  is  one  of  the  unrealized  self.  One 
is  the  feeling  of  the  objective  and  universal  self,  so  far 
as  this  has  been  made  to  exist  in  individual  form ; the 
other  is  the  vague  and  indefinite  feeling  of  this  univer- 
sal self  as  not  realized.  An  animal  may  be  ignorant, 
for  example,  but  we  cannot  conceive  it  to  be  conscious 
of  this  ignorance,  unless  we  attribute  to  it  a true  self- 
consciousness.  Ignorance  is  the  feeling  of  the  division 
or  conflict  in  our  nature. 

A feeling  of  the  unknown  must  be  distinguished, 
therefore,  from  one  of  the  unknowable.  The  latter 
would  be  a feeling  of  something  utterly  unrelated  to 
self,  and  hence  is  a psychological  impossibility.  The 
feeling  that  something  is  unknown,  or  of  ignorance,  is 
the  feeling  of  self,  but  of  self  as  still  incomplete.  A 
feeling  of  the  unknowable  would  be  possible  only  if 
we  could  transcend  wholly  our  own  being;  a feeling 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 


303 


of  the  unknown  is  possible,  if  we  can  transcend  our 
present  being,  and  feel  our  true  being  as  one  which  is 
not  jet  completely  realized.  The  true  function  of  the 
feeling  of  ignorance  is,  therefore,  to  serve  as  an  induce- 
ment, as  a spring,  to  further  action,  while  a feeling  of 
the  unknowable  could  only  paralyze  all  action.  It  leads, 
accordingly,  by  a natural  transition,  to  our  second  topic. 

II.  Feeling  as  Spring  to  Intellectual  Action. — Intel- 
lectual feeling,  like  all  feeling,  takes  the  form  of  an 
interest  in  objects.  It  is  directed  outward  ; it  can  find 
its  satisfaction  only  in  an  outgoing  activity  of  self. 
Intellectual  feeling,  considered  in  this  aspect,  is  won- 
der. 'Wonder  is  the  attitude  which  the  emotional 
nature  spontaneously  assumes  in  front  of  a world  of 
objects.  The  feeling  is  utterly  incomprehensible  as  a 
purely  personal  or  selfish  feeling.  Wonder  is  the  first 
and  the  final  expression  of  the  individual  as  it  finds  a 
universe  over  against  it.  Wondei-,  by  false  education 
or  by  selfish  indulgence,  may  be  deadened,  but  it  is 
only  by  eliminating  the  very  spring  to  all  knowledge 
that  it  can  be  wholly  annihilated.  The  mind  cannot 
entirely  lose  the  sense  that  it  is  in  the  presence  of  a 
universe  of  objects  to  know  which  is  to  find  its  own 
true  being.  Wonder  is  the  emotional  outgoing  of  the 
mind  towards  this  universe.  To  lose  wholly  the  feel- 
ing of  wonder  is  to  lose  the  sense  of  the  universality 
and  objectivity  of  mind ; it  is  to  sink  back  contented 
into  one’s  own  subjective  possessions,  and  thus  commit 
intellectual  suicide. 

Wonder  and  Surprise— -It  is  evident  that  wonder 
is  to  be  distinguished  from  surprise.  Surprise  is  the 
emotion  experienced  when  the  mind  finds  itself  con- 
fronted with  an  order  contravening  its  established  as- 


304 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


sociations.  Wonder  is  the  emotion  experienced  before 
all  objective  orders  whatever.  We  feel  surprise  when, 
expecting  to  find  a building  in  a certain  place,  we  find 
only  a heap  of  smoking  ruins.  We  feel  wonder  both 
at  the  presence  of  the  building  and  of  the  ashes.  We 
feel,  that  is  to  say,  in  both  cases  a challenge  to  our  in- 
telligence. We  find  an  appeal  made  to  our  minds  to 
discover  what  exists  there  and  why  it  exists.  It  may 
come  about  that  we  grow  so  used  to  our  customary 
environment  that  we  feel  wonder  only  when  the  shock 
of  surprise  strikes  us,  but  the  normal  healthy  attitude 
of  the  mind  is  wonder  at  all  facts,  familiar  or  novel, 
until  it  has  mastered  their  meaning  and  made  itself  at 
home  among  them. 

Wonder  and  Knowledge. — It  is  not  strange,  there- 
fore, that  both  Plato  and  Aristotle  regarded  wonder  as 
the  source  of  science  and  of  philosophy,  for  wonder  is 
the  sole  spring  which  can  take  a man  beyond  his  sub- 
jective states,  and  put  him  in  that  active  relation  to  the 
world  which  is  the  sole  condition  of  getting  at  its  mean- 
ing. But  it  is  no  less  true  that  wonder  is  the  cause  of  all 
growth,  of  all  increase  of  knowledge.  It  is  not  only  the 
originator,  but  it  is  the  continuer  of  science.  Ordinary 
minds  may  accept  mere  familiarity  as  sufficient  creden- 
tials for  a fact,  but  the  scientific  mind  finds  in  the  fact 
that  it  is  familiar  only  additional  cause  for  wonder. 
Most  of  us  get  to  think  that  the  mere  fact  of  experi- 
ence that  things  are  such  and  such,  is  reason  enough 
why  they  should  be  so ; the  scientific  mind  continues 
to  wonder  why  they  should  be  so,  and  is  impelled  to 
discover  their  meaning.  It  has  been  well  said  that 
there  is  no  better  test  of  genius  than  the  ability  to 
wonder  at  what  is  familiar. 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 


305 


Disinterestedness  and  Curiosity.  — Wonder  is  the 
simple  recognition  that  objects  have  significance  for  us 
beyond  the  mere  fact  of  their  existence.  It  is  accord- 
ingly the  spring  to  that  activity  'which  shall  discover 
their  significance.  A wide  development  of  the  feeling 
of  wonder  constitutes  disinterestedness , the  primary 
requisite  for  all  investigation.  Wonder,  as  the  outgo- 
ing activity  of  mind,  necessarily  requires  a surrender 
of  all  purely  subjective  and  selfish  interests,  and  the 
devotion  of  one’s  self  to  the  object  wholly  for  the  sake 
of  the  latter.  It  is  love  of  knowledge ; and  knowledge 
is  necessarily  objective  and  universal.  It  is  vitiated  by 
the  presence  of  any  merely  personal  interest.  When 
the  activity  occurs  not  for  the  sake  of  the  object,  but 
for  the  sake  of  satisfying  the  personal  emotion  of 
wonder,  we  have,  not  disinterestedness,  but  curiosity. 
The  feeling  is  separated  from  its  connection  with  ob- 
jects, and  is  given  an  independent  existence  in  con- 
sciousness. This  is  why  the  term  “ curiosity,”  which 
might  be  synonymous  with  wonder,  has  come  to  have 
a bad  meaning.  It  is  wonder  which  has  taken  a per- 
sonal form. 

Abnormal  Feelings. — As  such,  curiosity  is  an  abnor- 
mal feeling.  It  is  possible,  however,  for  intellectual 
feelings  to  assume  still  more  unhealthy  forms.  Such 
we  have  when  knowledge  is  sought  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  vanity,  or  for  the  sake  of  show  or  power.  A 
more  subtle  form  is  that  distinctively  nineteenth-cen- 
tury disease,  the  love  of  culture,  as  such.  When  the 
feeling  is  directed  not  towards  objects,  but  towards  the 
state  of  mind  induced  by  the  knowledge  of  the  objects, 
there  originates  a love  of  knowing,  for  the  sake  of  the 
development  of  the  mind  itself.  The  knowledge  is 


306 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


acquired  becauses  it  widens  and  expands  self.  Culture 
of  our  mental  powers  is  made  an  end  in  itself,  and 
knowledge  of  the  universe  of  objects  is  subordinated  to 
this.  The  intellectual  feelings  are  separated  from  their 
proper  place  as  functions  of  the  integral  life,  and  are 
given  an  independent  place  in  consciousness.  Here,  as 
in  all  such  cases,  the  attempt  defeats  itself.  The  only 
way  to  develop  self  is  to  make  it  become  objective ; the 
only  way  to  accomplish  this  is  to  surrender  the  inter- 
ests of  the  personal  self.  Self-culture  reverses  the  pro- 
cess, and  attempts  to  employ  self  - objectification  or 
knowledge  as  a mere  means  to  the  satisfaction  of  these 
personal  interests.  The  result  is  that  the  individual 
never  truly  gets  outside  of  himself. 

III.  Objective  Side  of  Feeling. — As  this  has  been  pre- 
supposed in  what  has  already  been  said,  it  may  be 
passed  over  briefly  here.  Intellectual  feeling,  in  the 
first  place,  is  the  internal  side  of  all  knowledge;  it  is 
objects  and  their  relations  dissolved  in  the  medium  of 
individual  consciousness.  In  the  second  place,  it  is,  as 
wonder,  the  spring  to  intellectual  activity ; the  source 
of  the  endeavor  to  master  the  meaning  of  objects.  In 
whatever  way  we  look  at  feeling,  accordingly,  we  find 
it  connected  with  objects.  We  have  now  only  to  trace 
the  process  of  its  connection  veiy  briefly. 

Presentiment. — All  intellectual  activity  is  directed 
towards  an  end.  Yet  just  what  that  end  is  we  do  not 
know ; if  we  did,  we  should  not  be  going  through  the 
mental  process  of  reaching  it.  Yet  our  reaching  this 
end  depends  upon  directing  all  our  thoughts  accord- 
ing to  it ; we  must  select  and  reject  mental  material 
accordingly  to  its  reference  to  this  end.  The  end, 
therefore,  exists  in  the  mind  by  wTay  of  feeling.  We 


INTELLECTUAL  FEELINGS. 


307 


do  not  know  what  it  is,  but  we  dimly^c^  what  it  is ; 
and  we  select  material  that  feels  congruous  with  this 
end,  and  reject  that  which  feels  unharmonious.  The 
direction  of  all  intellectual  processes  by  feeling  is  very 
commonly  overlooked,  but  it  is  fundamental.  Our 
knowledge  consists  in  giving  feelings  definite  form 
and  in  projecting  them.  Knowledge  is  the  attempt  on 
the  part  of  feeling  to  give  an  account  of  itself.  That 
aspect  which  guides  feeling  in  this  attempt  we  may 
call  presentiment,  using  the  word  in  a wider  sense  than 
is  usual. 

Intuitive  Feeling. — :This  fore-grasp  of  feeling  upon 
what  is  not  yet  intellectually  identified  and  discrimi- 
nated constitutes  a form  of  intuition.  This  power  of 
intuition  or  of  feeling  in  what  direction  truth  lies,  a 
vague  power  of  foretelling  what  its  general  nature  is 
and  what  measures  must  be  taken  to  reach  it,  is  one  of 
the  unfailing  marks  of  intellectual  genius.  It  is  a mat- 
ter which  cannot  be  subjected  to  rules,  and  which  be- 
longs to  the  individual  alone,  since  it  is  a matter  of 
feeling.  No  mind  can  teach  another  to  feel  as  it  does. 
After,  however,  the  end  has  been  reached,  it  is  possi- 
ble for  consciousness  reflectively  to  trace  the  steps  and 
formulate  the  process.  It  will  be  found  that  feeling 
has  been  controlled  when  it  succeeds  in  reaching  the 
end  by  certain  general  considerations. 

Feeling  mid  Logic. — Feeling,  when  thus  reflectively 
criticised  and  crystallized  into  intellectual  propositions, 
gives  rise  to  the  rules  of  the  logic  of  method.  Logic, 
as  the  science  of  investigation,  must  wait  upon  the  act- 
ual discoveries  of  the  intellect,  which  are  controlled  by 
feeling.  It  is  reflective  and  critical,  not  intuitive  and 
creative ; it,  therefore,  may  be  taught,  while  the  actual 


308 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


process  of  discovering  new  truth  can  never  be  impart- 
ed. It  must  follow  after,  not  precede,  discovery.  Logic, 
in  short,  only  generalizes  and  crystallizes  what  was 
originally  existing  in  the  form  of  feeling.  A judg- 
ment is  the  projection  of  a fore-feeling  that  things  are 
so  and  so;  logic  can  only  sum  up  the  consideration^, 
according  to  which  feeling  works  in  forming  these  pro- 
jections. 

Martineau  (op.  tit.'),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  141-154;  Bain,  “Emotions  and  Will,”  pp. 
199-209 ; Wundt,  “ Phys.  Psy.”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  347-352  ; Nalilowsky  (op.  tit.), 
pp.  157—162 ; Strumpell  (op.  tit.),  p.  271  ff. ; Beneke,  “ Psychologiscke  Skiz- 
zen,”  vol.  i.,  pp.  227-262;  Perez,  “L’Education  des  le  Berceau,”  pp.  35-72; 
James,  in  Mind,  vol.  iv.,  p.  317,  on  “ Sentiment  of  Rationality ;”  Sully, £!  Psy- 
choiogy,  ’ pp.  521-530. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AESTHETIC  FEELING. 

Definition  and  Mode  of  Treatment. — .Esthetic  feel- 
ings are  such  as  accompany  the  apprehension  of  the 
ideal  value  of  experience.  They  are  presupposed  in 
the  intellectual  emotions  which  are  the  feelings  of  the 
meaning  of  experience,  or  of  the  relation  of  objects  to 
each  other ; for  meaning,  or  relation,  as  we  saw  when 
studying  knowledge,  is  a thoroughly  ideal  factor.  We 
shall  take  up,  first,  the  general  nature  of  aesthetic  feel- 
ingots  analysis,  and  various  elements;  second, aesthetic 
feeling  as  a spring  to  activity,  or  the  fine  arts ; third, 
the  objective  side  of  aesthetic  feeling,  the  aesthetic  judg- 
ment, or  taste. 

I.  General  Nature . — As  just  said,  aesthetic  feeling 
is  that  which  arises  from  the  contemplation  of  the  ideal 
value  of  any  factor  of  experience.  This  does  not  mean 
that  there  exists  first  an  intellectual  apprehension  of 
certain  relations,  and  then  that  this  apprehension  is  fol- 
lowed by  another  apprehension  of  the  congruence  or 
incongruence  of  these  relations  to  a certain  ideal,  ac- 
companied by  a feeling  of  aesthetic  quality.  It  is  meant 
that  every  element  of  experience  stands  in  certain  re- 
lations to  the  ideal  of  mind,  and  that  the  mind  imme- 
diately responds  to  these  relations  by  a feeling  of  beau- 
ty or  ugliness.  The  feeling  is  the  internal,  individual 
side  of  the  process ; it  goes  before  rather  than  follows 
any  intellectual  apprehension.  We  shall  consider  (1) 


310 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  connection  of  the  feeling  of  beauty  with  idealiza- 
tion ; (2)  the  universality  of  the  feeling ; (3)  the  prin- 
cipal elements  which  make  it. 

1.  Idealization  and  the  Esthetic  Feeling.  — Every 
content  of  consciousness  may  have  an  element  of  beau- 
ty in  it,  or,  indeed,  must  have  it  so  far  as  it  must  con- 
tain an  ideal  element.  We  speak  of  a beautiful  land- 
scape ; a beautiful  statue  or  musical  composition  ; a 
beautiful  truth,  a beautiful  deed  or  character.  So  the 
adjective  ugly  is  applied  to  fact  and  to  moral  action  as  well 
as  to  professedly  artistic  creation.  Yet  it  is  not  to  the 
intellectual  phase  of  the  truth,  nor  to  the  moral  aspect 
of  the  character  that  the  aesthetic  quality  appertains. 
The  truth  is  called  beautiful  because  it  thrills  the  soul 
with  a peculiar  feeling  of  an  ideal  indwelling  in  nature 
which  finds  an  expression  in  this  truth ; the  character 
is  beautiful  because  of  a like  embodiment  of  an  ideal. 
There  is  a sense  of  satisfaction  felt  in  each,  apart  from 
any  information  conveyed  by  the  truth,  or  any  ap- 
proval induced  by  the  character.  This  feeling  of  sat- 
isfaction in  the  objective  presentation  of  any  harmo- 
nious ideal  constitutes  aesthetic  sentiment. 

Intellectual  and  ^Esthetic  Idealization.  — There  is 
no  knowledge  whatever  without  idealization,  and  yet 
beauty  is  not  truth,  nor  intellectual  feeling  the  same 
as  aesthetic.  How  this  can  be,  the  following  illustra- 
tion may  serve  to  suggest.  A person  in  knowing  a 
locomotive  goes  through  a process  of  idealization.  He\ 
reads  into  the  sensations  presented  to  him  all  the  rela- ! 
tions  possible  and  thus  renders  the  sensations  signiti-. 
cant.  Just  in  the  degree  in  which  he  can  read  the  re- 
sults of  past  experience  into  these  sensations  may  he 
be  said  truly  to  know  the  locomotive.  Yet  this  process\ 


ESTHETIC  FEELING. 


311 


of  idealization  does  not  constitute  an  aesthetic  quality. 
The  idealization  takes  a wholly  objective  form.  It  is 
regarded  as  a property  of  the  object.  The  ideal  quali- 
ty exists,  but  it  is  absorbed  in  the  thing.  The  feelings 
which  we  have  are  intellectual  feelings;  they  are  feel- 
ings of  the  relation  of  the  locomotive  to  other  objects, 
and  of  its  parts  to  each  other.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
locomotive  has  “ beauty”  so  far  as  it  is  felt  to  be  the  fit 
and  successful  embodiment  of  an  idea  in  outward  form. 
Its  inventor  was  an  artist  when  he  succeeded  in  so 
working  out  his  own  idea  (inner  at  first)  that  it  assumed 
the  appropriate  sensuous  detail.  ^Esthetic  emotion  is"] 
still  experienced  whenever  we  consider  not  merely  the 
parts  of  the  machine  in  their  reciprocal  relations  to  one 
another,  but  the  locomotive  in  its  whole  function  ; in 
its  spirit  or  idea,  its  power  to  break  down  barriers  of 
distance  and  bind  men  together  in  the  exchange  of 
goods  and  ideas.  The  intellectual  interest  has  to  do 
with  the  parts  of  a product ; the  aesthetic  with  they??’<> 
cess  of  uttering  an  idea. 

Sensuous  Element  in  Beauty. — There  can  be  no  beau- 
tiful object  without  the  presence  of  the  sensuous  ele- 
ment, as  there  can  be  no  object  of  knowledge  without 
it.  The  arrangement,  however,  of  the  sensuous  material 
is  much  more  important  from  an  artistic  point  of  view 
than  from  an  intellectual.  When  a rose  is  considered 
as  an  object  of  knowledge,  it  is  indifferent  what  color  it 
possesses.  The  clashing  of  cymbals  may  be  made  as 
much  an  object  of  scientific  investigation  as  the  render- 
ing of  a sonata  of  Beethoven.  But  in  art,  the  color, 
even  its  purely  sensuous  qualities,  and  the  sound,  even 
apart  from  higher  ideal  associations,  constitute  much  of 
the  effect  to  be  reached.  An  idea  may  be  very  beauti- 


312 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ful  in  itself,  but  become  ugly  by  the  sensuous  material 
used  to  embody  it,  while  a comparatively  mediocre  con- 
ception may  be  rendered  fairly  beautiful  by  suitable 
handling  of  material.  This  increased  importance  of 
sensuous  basis  in  art  is  not  in  contradiction  to  what  was 
said  in  the  previous  paragraph  regarding  the  greater 
share  of  idealization  in  art,  but  in  confirmation  of  it. 
The  sensuous  material  is  not  of  greater  importance  in 
itself,  but  as  a vehicle  for  presenting  the  ideal.  In 
knowledge  the  sensation  is  indifferent — that  is  to  say, 
any  sensation  is  capable  of  conveying  some  informa- 
tion, and  as  mere  matter  of  knowledge,  one  piece  of  in- 
formation is  as  important  as  another;  in  art,  the  sen- 
sation is  of  value,  because  certain  sensuous  stuff  serves 
to  present  the  idea,  while  other  material  utterly  fails. 

Freedom  in  Art. — It  follows  that,  since  in  art  the 
sensuous  material  is  handled  solely  with  reference  to 
its  fitness  for  embodying  values  or  ideals,  art  appears 
in  freer  form  than  science.  Science  must  conform 
to  the  relations  which  are  found  actually  to  exist. 
The  freedom  of  art  does  not  mean  that  it  can  deal 
capriciously  with  these  actual  relations  or  with 
fact.  But  it  does  mean  that  fact  can  be  found  to 
have  an  aspect  in  which  it  is  not  a constraint  upon 
self  or  an  external  limit  to  self,  but  in  which  it 
satisfies  some  interest  or  idea  of  self.  Art  is  free 
because  it  can  thus  handle  the  fact  as  one  with 
self  instead  of  as  a material  foreign  to  it.  Its 
freedom  does  not  lie  in  emancipation  from  law,  but 
in  the  fact  that  the  laws  which  it  follows  are  laws  of 
the  self. 

Idealism  and  Realism  in  Art. — This  enables  us  to  de- 
cide upon  the  proper  function  of  the  so-called  “ideal” 


^ESTHETIC  FEELING. 


313 


and  “ real  ” elements  in  art.  In  strictest  sense,  a pure- 
ly realistic,  as  a purely  idealistic,  art  is  impossible — - 
that  is  to  say,  pure  realism  would  have  no  meaning 
to  appeal  to  the  mind,  for  meaning  is  a product  of 
idealization,  and  would  have  no  interest  to  appeal  to 
the  emotions,  for  interest  is  a product  of  the  putting 
of  self  into  fact.  And  pure  idealism,  if  interpreted  to 
mean  that  sensuous  material  shall  not  be  used,  is  im- 
possible, for  an  ideal  unembodied,  unmanifested,  would 
have  no  meaning  whatever.  Furthermore,  all  meaning 
is  meaning  of  fact,  of  reality.  It  cannot  exist  in  the 
air.  The  careful,  minute,  and  faithful  study  of  actual 
fact  is  needed,  therefore,  first,  that  one  may  know  what 
the  value  of  an  experience  really  is ; and,  secondly,  that 
one  may  know  the  concrete  sensuous  material  which 
shall  be  used  in  presenting  it.  All  art,  however,  is 
idealistic  in  the  sense  that  it  has  for  its  function  the 
appreciation  of  the  ideal  values  of  experience,  and  sub- 
ordinates the  treatment  of  its  material  to  the  convey- 
ing of  this  material.  The  material  exists  for  the  sake 
of  the  realization  of  the  ideal. 

2.  The  Universality  of  Beauty. — This  introduces  us 
to  the  universal  quality  of  sesthetic  feeling.  This  is  a 
necessary  corollary  of  its  ideal  nature,  for  value,  signifi- 
cance, is  necessarily  universal  and  cannot  be  confined  to 
any  one  particular  time  or  place.  The  form  in  which 
the  idea  is  realized  is  necessarity  particular;  the  beau- 
tiful object  exists  here  and  now ; but  its  beauty  is  not 
a thing  of  time  or  place.  An  author  may  study  a phase 
of  society  which  is  extremely  local  and  transient.  If 
his  object  is  merely  to  reproduce  in  his  pages  this  so- 
ciety, his  work  is  not  one  of  art,  but  of  science.  It  is 
a study  in  sociology.  If,  however,  he  manages  to  por- 
14 


314 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tray  through  the  medium  of  this  material  the  ideal 
significance  of  the  society,  it  is  art.  No  matter  how 
much  of  perishing  and  particular  detail  he  may  intro- 
duce, the  result  is  universal.  It  is  true,  as  we  say,  to 
human  nature',  that  is,  to  the  permanent  and  essential 
being  of  man,  and  will,  therefore,  always  appeal  to  those 
in  whom  the  idea  of  man  lives.  Universality  does  not 
depend  upon  the  material  employed,  but  upon  the  spirit 
in  which  it  is  treated.  We  have  now  to  study  some  of 
the  ways  in  which  this  universality  of  feeling  appears. 

(1.)  In  the  first  place,  the  universality  of  aesthetic 
feeling  necessarily  precludes  the  lower  senses  from  any 
important  role  in  art.  Tasting  or  smelling  an  object 
requires  that  it  be  brought  into  actual  contact  with  the 
organism  and  bodily  appropriated  by  it,  either  in  whole 
or  part.  Such  feelings  may  be  agreeable,  but  they  can- 
not be  beautiful.  What  they  convey  is  simply  a rela- 
tion of  agreement  between  the  substance  and  the  given 
organism,  not  an  agreement  or  harmony  between  the 
object  and  intelligence  in  general,  by  reason  of  idea 
symbolized  by  it.  Such  feelings  are  selfish  ; they  have 
no  universal  aspect. 

(2.)  A beautiful  object  must  exclude  th o,  feeling  of 
ownership.  The  beautiful  object  may  be  owmed,  but 
its  beauty  cannot  be.  If  what  one  enjoys  in  a beauti- 
ful object  is  the  sense  of  its  ownership,  his  feeling  is 
not  an  aesthetic  one.  So  far,  indeed,  as  any  feeling  en- 
ters into  the  experience,  which  is  not  capable  of  being 
shared  by  all  w7ho  witness  the  beautiful  object,  the  sen- 
timent is  not  an  aesthetic  one.  All  enjojunent  of  pos- 
session, as  well  as  of  immediate  physical  use,  must  be 
excluded. 

(3.)  Finally,  the  universality  of  aesthetic  feeling  re- 


^ESTHETIC  FEELING. 


315 


quires  that  the  beautiful  object  be  not  subordinated  to 
any  external  end.  There  is  no  separation  of  use  and 
beauty,  of  useful  and  fine  art,  but  there  is  a distinction. 
Both  kinds  of  art  are  ways  of  expressing  an  idea  and 
thus  have  a common  principle.  But  in  the  merely  use- 
ful this  process  of  expression  is  simply  a means  to  some 
product  beyond.  It  has  no  free  value,  but  only  as 
leading  up  to  the  article  produced.  There  is  a divorce 
of  the  process  from  its  product.  So  far  as  the  action 
is  useful  not  simply  to  something  else , but  in  itself  and 
to  the  whole  self,  there  is  beauty.  A locomotive  is 
merely  “useful”  if  we  consider  it  not  in  its  relations 
to  the  idea  which  it  actively  expresses,  but  in  relations 
to  some  external  shipper  or  stockholder.  It  is  “ beau- 
tiful” if  considered  as  a way  of  realizing  social  ideas 
and  interests. 

3.  The  Factors  of  ^Esthetic  Feeling. — "We  have  al- 
ready seen  that  the  characteristics  which  mark  aesthetic 
feeling  are  its  ideality  and  universality;  that  it  is  char- 
acterized by  great  freedom,  suggestiveness,  and  unre- 
strained manipulation  of  sensuous  material  to  embody 
the  ideal  effect  aimed  at.  It  may  be  objected  that  these 
terms  are  all  very  general  and  vague,  and  that  we  should 
be  able  to  point  out  just  those  characteristics  which 
constitute  beauty  and  awaken  the  aesthetic  feeling.  It 
is  impossible  to  limit  art  in  this  way,  however,  as  one 
of  its  most  striking  characteristics  is  that  it  cannot  be 
defined.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  beforehand  just  what 
combination  of  qualities  will  appear  beautiful,  or  how 
they  should  be  arranged  to  excite  aesthetic  feeling.  We 
can  only  point  out  the  very  general  characteristics  which 
all  beautiful  objects  are  found  to  possess. 

Harmony. — The  most  general  property,  constituting 


316 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


beauty,  is  harmony , or  variety  in  unity.  It  is  impossi- 
ble to  give  a more  definite  answer,  because  the  element 
of  harmony  may  take  thousands  of  different  shapes. 
Art  is  essentially  creative,  and  it  is  impossible  to  limit 
it  beforehand  by  rules.  It  makes  its  own  rules.  It  is 
impossible  to  tell  what  a beautiful  object  is  except  by 
creating  or  contemplating  some  particular  beautiful  ob- 
ject. We  can  lay  down  some  formal  considerations, 
but  we  cannot  tell  anything  about  the  concrete  content 
in  any  other  way.  We  have,  therefore,  simply  to  ana- 
lyze the  idea  of  harmony. 

Harmony  and  the  Feeling  of  Self  . — Harmony  is,  in 
essence,  the  feeling  of  the  agreement  of  some  experience 
with  the  ideal  nature  of  the  self.  This  distinguishes  it 
from  the  feeling  of  agreement  or  congruity  which  plays 
so  important  a part  in  intellectual  feeling.  That  is  a 
feeling  of  agreement  of  relations.  Whether  the  feel- 
ing of  beauty  is  excited  by  the  perception  of  regular 
form,  of  a picturesque  landscape,  a pleasing  melody,  a 
poem,  or  a painting,  its  essence  is  the  felt  harmony  of 
the  beautiful  object  with  our  own  inmost  nature.  We 
find  a landscape  beautiful  because  wTe  find  ourselves  in 
some  way  reflected  in  it.  It  appeals  to  us.  This  does 
not  mean  that  we  have  a prior  conception  of  our  nat- 
ure, and,  consciously  finding  this  realized  in  the  land- 
scape, call  the  latter  beautiful.  Bather  the  landscape 
serves  to  reveal  to  us  something  hitherto  unknown  of 
our  own  capacities  and  sympathies. 

Adaptation  and  Economy. — The  term  adaptation 
also  involves  the  idea  of  harmony.  It  has,  however, 
two  meanings.  That  which  is  merely  calculated  to  pro- 
cure some  end  beyond  itself  has  an  external  adaptation, 
and  is  useful  simply.  But  when  many  means,  diverse 


.(ESTHETIC  FEELING. 


317 


and  even  opposed  in  themselves,  are  adjusted  into  an 
internal  unity  through  some  single  function,  purpose, 
or  idea,  which  reflects  itself  in  each  detail,  there  is 
beauty.  A cart-wheel  has  adaptation  of  members  to 
an  end,  but  the  means  and  end  are  external  to  one  an- 
other. In  a living  being,  on  the  contrary,  the  adapta- 
tion shines  through  and  gives  meaning  to  each  of  the 
component  members.  Another  term,  expressing  the 
same  idea,  is  economy.  When  a result  is  rich  and  full, 
and  is  reached  by  a few  means  and  these  few  simple 
and  accurately  fitted  to  the  end,  there  is  beauty.  The 
graceful  is  always  the  economical,  the  awkward  the 
wasteful  and  ill-adapted. 

II.  ^ Esthetic  Feeling  as  a Spring  to  Action. — Aes- 
thetic feeling  not  only  goes  out  into  objects  where  it 
takes  the  form  of  beauty,  but  in  its  connection  with 
these  objects  becomes  a source  of  interest  to  the  mind, 
and  hence  leads  to  action  for  the  satisfaction  of  this 
interest.  Aesthetic  feeling,  in  other  words,  is  some- 
thing more  than  passive  enjoyment  of  beauty  ; it  is  ac- 
tive delight  in  it,  it  is  love  for  it ; and  love  can  be  sat- 
isfied only  with  the  production  of  that  which  is  loved. 
Feeling  thus  becomes  a spring  to  creative  activity 
which  in  its  result  takes  the  form  of  the  fine  arts.  As 
the  intellectual  feelings,  as  springs  to  action,  take  the 
form  of  wonder,  so  the  aesthetic  feelings  take  the  form 
of  admiration.  Admiration  is  love  of  beauty,  as  won- 
der is  love  of  knowledge. 

The  Fine  Arts. — Art  is,  therefore,  the  attempt  to 
satisfy  the  aesthetic  side  of  our  nature.  As  the  aesthet- 
ic side  of  our  nature  is  the  feeling  of  the  ideal  as  such, 
it  follows  that  art  can  completely  satisfy  admiration, 
only  when  it  completely  manifests  the  ideal — whatever 


318 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


that  may  be.  And  as  we  have  seen  that  this  ideal  is 
the  completely  developed  self,  we  may  say  that  the  end 
of  art  is  to  create  that  in  which  the  human  soul  may 
find  itself  perfectly  reflected.  Or  as  the  essential  fac- 
tor in  beauty  is  harmony — harmony  with  self — we  may 
say  that  the  end  of  art  is  to  produce  a perfectly  har- 
monized self.  The  various  fine  arts,  architecture, 
sculpture,  painting,  music,  and  poetry,  are  the  succes- 
sive attempts  of  the  mind  adequately  to  express  its 
own  ideal  nature,  or,  more  correctly  stated,  adequately 
to  produce  that  which  will  satisfy  its  own  demands  for 
and  love  of  a perfectly  harmonious  nature,  something 
in  which  admiration  may  rest. 

Architecture. — Architecture  is  the  beginning  of  this 
ideal  creation.  It  is  an  art  which  appeals  especially  to 
the  eye,  and  since  its  products  occupy  the  three  dimen- 
sions of  space,  to  touch  and  the  muscular  sense.  It  is 
the  least  idealized  of  the  arts,  for  it  depends  in  the 
largest  degree  upon  the  actual  material  used,  and  it 
uses  this  material  least  freely  since  it  has  to  subordi- 
nate it  to  certain  ends  of  utility.  Its  imposing  forms, 
as  well  as  its  size,  however,  make  its  effects  approach 
those  of  sublimity.  Its  aesthetic  influence  is  one  of 
vague,  but  powerful,  emotion.  The  fact  that  this  emo- 
tion is  so  akin  to  one  of  dependence  and  worship  ren- 
ders this  art  especially  fitted  for  religious  associations. 
The  greatest  architectural  productions  have  always 
been  temples  and  cathedrals.  Another  reason  for  this 
is,  that  a building  for  worship  obtrudes  less  than  any 
other  kind  its  especial  end  of  use,  and  so  allows  the 
artist  more  of  that  freedom  of  creation  which  is  a req- 
uisite to  all  high  art. 

Sculpture  and  Painting. — The  art  of  sculpture  ap- 


.ESTHETIC  FEELING. 


319 


peals  to  the  same  senses  as  architecture,  and  is,  indeed, 
generally  found  associated  with  it,  all  art  of  this  kind, 
excepting  the  lower  forms  of  domestic  art,  having  been 
produced  with  at  least  a partial  architectural  effect  in 
view.  This  art  is  more  ideal  than  architecture,  how- 
ever, for  it  is  less  obviously  subordinated  to  any  use ; 
its  effects  depend  more  upon  the  idea  which  is  to  be 
conveyed  and  less  upon  the  material  employed  ; and 
it  is  more  intimately  connected  with  man’s  own  nat- 
ure, for  it  is  usually  employed  in  constructing  the  hu- 
man figure,  and  in  presenting  some  human  ideal,  while 
architecture  in  itself  must  be  confined  to  physical  ma- 
terial, which  is,  therefore,  inadequate  to  express  man’s 
true  nature.  Painting  mounts  a step  higher.  Its  ma- 
terial is  color  alone,  occupying  two  dimensions  of  space. 
It  depends  less  upon  actual  objective  existence  (is 
less  realistic,  if  one  choose  to  use  that  word)  than  either 
of  the  preceding  arts.  The  sensuous  element  in  paint- 
ing is  nought  but  a certain  amount  of  varicolored  pig- 
ment laid  on  a surface,  and,  without  the  interpreting 
action  of  intelligence,  is  dead  and  meaningless.  Paint- 
ing widens  the  range  of  man’s  ideal  expression  of  him- 
self, likewise,  for  it  represents  man’s  passions  and  man’s 
deeds,  and  not  alone  his  outward  figure  at  rest.  It  also 
brings  Nature  into  ideal  relations  with  man,  rendering 
her  spirit  in  its  kinship  to  man’s. 

Music.  — In  music  the  ideal  factor  assumes  still 
greater  prominence.  The  material  used  has  no  longer 
even  an  existence  in  space.  It  is  rather  internal  in 
character,  filling  time  only  in  the  form  of  sounds.  The 
aesthetic  quality,  or  beauty,  is  the  manifestation  of 
man’s  soul  through  these  sounds.  The  sounds  are  noth- 
ing; the  indwelling  idea  of  the  artist  is  all.  Music  is 


320 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


not  only  less  material  than  the  arts  already  studied,  but 
it  is  freer.  It  seems  like  an  actual  embodiment  of  the 
artist’s  own  feelings  for  the  beautiful.  While  in  the 
other  arts  it  is  possible  reflectively  to  trace  something 
of  the  rules  which  the  artist  followed  in  producing, 
music  appears  like  an  immediate  projection  of  a cre- 
ative nature.  The  laws  of  the  combination  and  ar- 
rangement of  sounds  can  indeed  be  made  out,  but  the 
laws  for  the  selection  of  these  arrangements  remain 
hidden  in  the  artist’s  breast.  Music  also  reveals  its 
higher  ideal  character  in  the  part  which  harmony  plays 
in  it.  There  is  harmony  in  architecture,  but  it  appears 
as  more  or  less  external,  as  spatial  proportion,  etc. ; in 
painting,  it  appears  in  the  gradation  of  colors,  in  the 
massing  of  light  and  shades,  in  the  composition  of  the 
figures  ; but  in  music,  it  is  the  very  soul  of  the  produc- 
tion. It  is  not  the  arrangement  of  the  material ; it  is 
the  material. 

Poetry. — In  poetry,  however,  art  for  the  first  time 
becomes  thoroughly  ideal.  The  sensuous  basis  is  now 
degraded  to  an  arbitrary  sjunbol  having  next  to  no 
value  in  itself.  That  which  it  possesses  is  musical, 
and  has  its  significance  only  as  the  vehicle  of  ideas. 
Here  for  the  first  time  is  the  content  of  experience 
adequate  to  the  ideal  form  employed.  That  is  to  say, 
here  for  the  first  time  is  the  subject-matter  living  man 
himself.  It  does  not  deal  with  his  material  present- 
ment, as  sculpture,  nor  with  the  shadowy  representa- 
tion of  his  form,  as  painting,  nor  with  his  emotions 
and  aspirations,  as  music,  but  with  his  own  vital  per- 
sonality. It  is  true  that  there  is  a poetry  of  nature,  as 
well  as  of  man,  but  nature  is  treated  only  as  the  reflexl 
of  man’s  spirit,  of  his  hopes  and  fears,  loves  and  adiniJ 


^ESTHETIC  FEELING.  321 

rations.  In  poetry,  also,  man  works  with  even  greater 
freedom  than  in  music.  Its  material  is  not  non-living 
sounds,  whose  freedom,  after  all,  must  be  assimilated 
or  imparted  freedom,  but  personalities,  whose  action  is 
the  expression  of  their  own  inner  nature.  Its  form  is 
also  freer,  being  less  subject  to  restrictions  of  mathe- 
matical relations. 

Forms  of  Poetry . — Poetry  may  be  divided  into  epic, 
lyric,  and  dramatic,  neglecting  minor  subdivisions.  Epic 
poetry  treats  men  as,  in  a certain  sense,  natural  forces. 
It  gives  man’s  acts,  rather  than  his  motives  and  springs 
to  action.  It  shows  him  moved  to  great  deeds,  in  com- 
pany with  other  men,  by  great  external  forces,  but  it 
shows  us  the  deeds  and  the  company,  rather  than  the 
workings  of  man’s  heart  and  his  individuality.  It  is 
objective  poetry.  Lyric  poetry,  on  the  other  hand,  is 
little  concerned  with  historical  happenings,  or  with 
mythical  counterfeits  of  history.  It  cares  little  for  ac- 
tion and  results.  It  finds  its  field  in  man’s  inner  life; 
it  expresses  his  individual  experiences — his  loves,  hates, 
desires,  joys  and  sorrows. 

Dramatic  poetry  unites  many  of  the  characteristics 
of  each  of  the  two  foregoing  classes.  It  deals  with  men 
in  groups,  and  men  in  action.  It  shows  the  action, 
rather  than  tells  us  of  it.  It  does  not  paint  life,  but  it 
sets  it  before  us.  It  shows  us  these  acts,  however,  as 
the  ontcome  of  man’s  personal  motives,  rather  than  as 
the  result  of  any  external  historical  forces  or  tenden- 
cies. It  show  us  man,  not  in  the  interior  recesses  of  his 
own  subjective  nature  alone,  nor  man  as  swayed  by 
forces  beyond  him  to  a goal  of  which  he  knows  noth- 
ing, but  man  as  irresistibly  pushing  on  towards  an  in- 
evitable end  through  his  own  personal  desires  and  in- 
14* 


322 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tentions.  It  shows  us  man’s  interior  nature  working 
itself  out  as  an  objective  fact.  It  consummates,  there- 
fore, the  range  of  fine  arts,  because  in  dramatic  form 
we  have  the  highest  ideal  of  self,  personality  display- 
ing itself  in  the  form  of  personality.  The  ideal  and 
the  mode  of  its  embodiment  are  both  personal,  and  be- 
yond this  art  cannot  go,  for  in  this  man  finds  himself 
expressed. 

III.  The  TEsthetic  Judgment  or  Taste. — ^Esthetic 
feeling,  like  intellectual,  has  its  objective  side.  Beauty 
is  a quality  which  we  spontaneously  attribute  to  ob- 
jects. Admiration  is  the  energy  of  aesthetic  feeling 
directed  outwards.  It  follows  that  the  feeling  of  beau- 
ty necessarily  passes  over  into  the  judgment  of  beauty. 
We  not  only  feel  a certain  thrill  of  satisfaction,  but  we 
perform  an  intellectual  act.  We  say  the  painting,  the 
landscape,  is  beautiful;  we  regard  the  feeling  not  as 
an  affection  of  our  own  subjective  consciousness,  but  we 
objectify  it.  Feeling  must  express  itself. 

In  the  great  artist  the  impulse  to  expression,  the  de- 
mand for  an  adequate  interpretation  of  the  feeling,  is 
much  stronger  than  in  the  ordinary  individual,  and  so 
he  is  impelled  to  creation ; but  the  impulse  is  strong 
enough  in  every  individual,  so  that  he  recognizes  some- 
thing as  beautiful.  The  great  artists  are,  after  all,  only 
the  interpreters  of  the  common  feelings  of  humanity; 
they  but  set  before  us,  as  in  concrete  forms  of  self- 
revealing  clearness,  the  dim  and  vague  feelings  which 
surge  for  expression  in  every  human  being,  finding  no 
adequate  outlet.  Thus  it  is  that  we  always  find  a great 
work  of  art  natural ; in  its  presence  we  do  not  feel 
ourselves  before  something  strange,  hut  taken  deeper 
into  ourselves,  having  revealed  to  us  some  of  those 


AESTHETIC  FEELING. 


323 


mysteries  of  our  own  nature  which  we  had  always  felt 
but  could  not  express.  The  aesthetic  judgment,  in 
short,  is  implicit  in  all  human  beings.  The  artist  helps 
it  into  light. 

Taste. — Just  as  the  intellectual  feelings,  when  pre- 
cipitated in  the  form  of  judgments,  are  afterwards  con- 
densed in  the  form  of  logical  principles  and  rules, 
so  the  aesthetic  judgments  crystallize  in  the  form  of 
the  principles  of  taste.  The  “ faculty  ” of  taste  is  sim- 
ply a generic  name  for  the  power  which  the  individ- 
ual possesses  of  framing  judgments  concerning  beauty. 
The  principles  of  taste  are  the  product  of  the  reflective 
analysis  of  the  understanding  as  it  goes  over  the  action 
of  aesthetic  feeling,  and  attempts  to  discover  the  lines 
along  which  the  latter  spontaneously  expresses  itself. 
They  are  attempts  to  formulate  the  characteristics  of 
that  object  which  feeling,  without  consciousness  of 
rules,  pronounces  to  be  beautiful.  It  follows  that 
taste  is  something  individual  in  its  nature,  depending 
upon  the  aesthetic  capacity  and  culture  of  the  one  ex- 
ercising it.  It  follows,  also,  that  while  the  rules  of 
taste  may  be  imparted,  the  method  of  creating  or  even 
of  appreciating  beauty  cannot  be  handed  from  one  to 
another.  It  is  a matter  of  individual  feeling,  of  aesthet- 
ic tact,  and  the  canons  of  taste  furnish  only  the  dry  so- 
lution of  that  which  exists  in  living  form  in  the  soul 
of  the  artist.  Artistic  feeling  is  creative;  taste  is  crit- 
ical. It  must  follow  after  art,  not  precede  it. 

Function  of  Taste. — It  is  with  matters  of  beauty  as 
Aristotle  says  it  is  with  matters  of  right  conduct ; only 
the  man  of  an  artistic  or  ethical  nature  is  a judge,  in 
individual  cases,  of  what  is  beautiful  or  good.  Yet 
the  formulation  of  the  principles  according  to  which 


324: 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


feeling  works  in  pronouncing  anything  beautiful  is 
not  useless.  The  attempt  to  say  what  is  beautiful  sets 
up  an  ideal  of  beauty  towards  which  the  artistic  im- 
pulses may  direct  themselves,  and  which  may  keep  them 
from  being  wasted  in  vain  and  unfertile  attempts.  The 
conscious  ideal  may  serve  as  a criterion  of  what  is  pro- 
duced, and  as  a guide  of  what  to  produce.  It  must 
not  be  forgotten,  however,  that  this  conscious  ideal 
gets  its  definite  shape  only  from  past  productions,  and 
while  new  creations  must  be  informed  by  this  ideal, 
the  ideal  must  be  constantly  widened  to  include  these 
new  developments.  Every  attempt  to  set  up  the  ideal 
as  ultimate  has  two  evil  effects.  In  the  first  place,  it 
stifles  the  efforts  of  the  individual,  and  substitutes  for 
that  spontaneous  freedom  of  action  which  is  the  es- 
sence of  aesthetic  production  a rigid  obedience  to  ex- 
ternally imposed  rules.  In  the  second  place,  it  ties  the 
ideal  down  to  what  has  already  been  accomplished,  and 
thus  destroys  its  ideal  character.  It  fossilizes  the  ideal 
into  cut-and-dried  formulae.  What  should  be  a spur 
to  new  creation  becomes  a burdensome  command  to 
produce  nothing  new. 

Abnormal  y ‘Esthetic  Feeling. — The  tendency  of  aes- 
thetic feeling  to  get  an  independent  existence  in  con- 
sciousness, and  to  be  cultivated,  not  for  the  sake  of  the 
beautiful  object,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  personal  sat- 
isfaction which  it  gives  the  one  enjoying  it,  is  great. 
./Esthetic  feeling,  in  other  words,  degenerates  into  aes- 
theticism. Admiration  is  no  longer  a love  of  beauty, 
an  interest  in  whatever  makes  the  universe  lovely,  but 
love  for  the  pleasures  of  beauty  ; an  interest  in  the  reflex 
effect  which  the  loveliness  of  the  universe  has  upon  the 
individual  soul.  Or  a correct  taste  may  become  the 


ESTHETIC  FEELING. 


325 


object  sought,  rather  than  genuine  appreciation  of  what 
gives  experience  its  value.  Instead  of  surrendering 
one’s  self  to  admiration  of  the  beautiful  object,  the  in- 
dividual may  regard  admiration  as  a confession  of  weak- 
ness, and  assume  an  attitude  of  superiority.  He  be- 
comes a connoisseur  or  an  amateur,  and  prides  himself 
upon  his  fastidiousness  and  refinement  of  taste  rather 
than  loses  himself  in  the  realm  of  objective  beauty. 
Feeling,  in  short,  is  shut  up  within  itself,  instead  of 
being  made  the  key  to  the  unlocking  of  the  beauty, 
grace,  and  loveliness  of  the  universe.  The  penalty  is 
inevitable— loss  of  freshness,  of  healthiness,  and  finally 
of  all  vitality  of  feeling.  Feeling  has  to  live  on  itself, 
instead  of  finding  new  food  in  every  object  of  experi- 
ence, and  it  ends  by  destroying  itself. 

Allen,  “Physiological  ^Esthetics;”  Gurney,  “ Power  of  Sound Hamilton, 
“Metaphysics,”  lect.  xlvi. ; Bain,  “ Emotions  and  Will,”  pp.  247-270 ; McCosli 
( op.  cit .),  pp.  148-214;  Sully,  “Sensation  and  Intuition,”  pp.  186-245;  “ Psy- 
chology,” pp.  531-552;  Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  223-235,  387-390  ; Lazarus  (op. 
tit.'),  vol.  i.  (essay  on  “Humor”);  vol.  ii.  (essay  on  “Psychology  of  Pine 
Arts”);  Strumpell  (op.  tit.),  p.  275  ff. ; Lipps  (op.  tit.),  fourth  essay;  Spen- 
cer (op.  tit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  G27-648 ; Nahlowsky  (op.  tit.),  pp.  162-197 ; Horwicz 
(op.  tit.),  vol.  ii.,  pt.  2,  pp.  176-225 ; Wundt,  “ I’hys.  Psy.”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  179-194 ; 
Perez,  “First  Three  Years,”  pp.  2G5-281;  Ileeker,  “Die  Psychologie  des 
Lachens  und  des  Komischen ;”  Siebeclc,  “ Das  Wesen  der  asthetischen  An- 
schauung;”  Carriere,  “ Die  Idee  des  Schonen;”  “Das  Wesen  und  die  Formen 
der  Poesie;”  Dimetresco,  “Der  Schbnheitsbegriff;”  Dreher,  “Kunst  in  ihrer 
Beziehungzur  Psychologie;”  Hermann, “Aesthetisclie  Farbenlelire ;”  Vischer, 
“Aesthetik;”  Ulrici,  “ Grundziige  der  praktischen  Philosopliie,”  pp.  157-183 ; 
Rosenkranz,  “Aesthetik  des  Hasslichen ;”  Eye,  “Das  Reich  des  Schonen;” 
Lotze,  “ Geschichte  der  Aesthetik;”  Fcchner,  “Vorschule  der  Aesthetik;” 
Neudecker,  “Studien”  (historical);  Perez,  “ L’Education,”  etc.,  pp.  111-159; 
Joly  (op.  tit.),  p.  210  f. ; Meyer,  “Aus  der  asthetischen  Padagogik;”  Yolk- 
inann  (op.  cit.),  vol,  ii.,  pp.  353-363. 


CHAPTER  XV I. 
PERSONAL  FEELING. 


Definition  and  Mode  of  Treatment. — Personal  feel- 
ings are  such  as  arise  from  the  relations  of  self-con- 
scious beings  to  each  other.  All  feeling  is  the  accom- 
paniment of  self-realization.  Ho  individual  can  real- 
ize himself  in  impersonal  relations — relations  of  things 
to  each  other  or  to  an  ideal.  He  can  truly  develop  him- 
self only  in  self-conscious  activity,  in  personality,  and 
this  is  impossible  without  relations  to  other  persons. 
A person  developing  his  personality  in  isolation  from 
other  persons,  through  contact  with  intellectual  or  aes- 
thetic material,  is  impossible.  It  is  hardly  conceivable 
that  he  should  ever  become  a being  capable  of  know- 
ing objects,  and  of  enjoying  beauty,  without  the  aid 
and  stimulus  given  by  others;  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive him  as  developing  the  social  side  of  his  nature. 
Following  the  lines  hitherto  laid  down,  we  shall  take 
up:  (I.)  The  general  nature  of  personal  feeling ; (II.) 
Personal  feeling  as  a spring  to  action,  or  love ; (III.) 
The  objective  side  of  personal  feeling,  the  social  judg- 
ment or  conscience. 

I.  General  A7 'ature  of  Personal  Feeling. — There  are 
sometimes  said  to  be  two  distinct  kinds  of  feeling  for 
persons ; one,  feelings  for  self,  egoistic  or  personal 
feelings,  properly  so  called ; the  other,  feelings  for 
others,  altruistic  or  social  feelings.  This  division  sup- 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


327 


poses  that,  in  the  first  place,  feelings  belong  to  our  own 
limited  individuality,  and  are  considered  only  as  they 
affect  one’s  immediate  self,  but  may  afterwards  be  ex- 
tended to  include  other  individuals.  It  overlooks  the 
necessary  reciprocal  relation  of  egoistic  and  altruistic 
feelings.  There  can  be  no  egoistic  feelings  except  as 
the  self  is  distinguished  from  others  and  set  over  against 
them  ; there  can  be  no  altruistic  feelings,  except  as  oth- 
ers are  recognized  in  their  relations  to  self,  and  com- 
pared with  it.  Our  first  feelings  are  not  personal,  in 
the  sense  of  egoistic. 

They  are,  properly  considered,  not  personal  at  all ; 
they  become  personal  only  as  they  are  referred  to  per- 
sons; and  they  cannot  be  referred  to  the  ego,  except 
as  the  ego  is  compared,  consciously  or  unconsciously, 
with  others,  and  preferred  before  them ; they  cannot 
become  altruistic  except  as  others  are  compared  with 
the  immediate  claims  of  the  ego.  The  love  of  proper- 
ty, the  feeling  of  rivalry,  of  anger,  of  the  love  of  ap- 
probation, the  feeling  of  self-esteem  or  pride,  of  sel- 
fishness, may  be  egoistic  feelings,  but  they  are  so  only 
because  of  an  act  which  recognizes,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  self  and  not-self,  ego  and  alter.  The  self 
has  no  meaning  except  as  contrasted  with  other  per- 
sons. Egoistic  feelings  are  impossible  except  through 
a connection  with  altruistic  feelings.  “ Mine  ” requires 
a contrasted  “ thine.” 

Glassification  of  Personal  Feelings. — Recognizing, 
therefore,  that  personal  feelings  cannot  be  classified  as 
egoistic  and  altruistic,  as  each  necessarily  involves  tlse 
other,  we  may  properly  classify  them,  in  the  order 
of  increasing  universality,  as  social,  moral,  and  relig- 
ious. Hot  only  are  egoistic  feelings  not  the  original 


328 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


type  of  personal  feelings,  but  they  are  not  normal  feel- 
ings at  all,  when  egoistic  is  interpreted  in  a selfish 
sense.  Love  of  property,  for  example,  is  not  a selfish 
feeling;  it  is  one  form  in  which  the  self  necessarily 
expands  and  expresses  its  being.  It  becomes  selfish 
only  when  the  feeling  is  isolated  from  the  object,  and 
the  pleasure  of  property,  the  connection  of  property 
with  one’s  immediate  self,  is  made  the  object  of  con- 
templation or  of  action.  Severed  in  this  way  from  its 
connection  with  the  object,  and  given  independent  ex- 
istence in  consciousness,  it  is,  like  all  such  feeling,  ab- 
normal. 

1.  Social  Feelings.  — Since  feelings  for  self  are  as 
thoroughly  social  in  their  nature  as  feelings  for  others  ; 
since,  indeed,  one  class  is  not  possible  without  the  oth- 
er, we  recognize  two  forms  of  social  feeling,  of  others 
and  of  self.  One  is  the  feeling  of  others  in  their 
relation  to  self ; the  other  is  the  feeling  of  self  in  its 
relation  to  others.  They  are  not  feelings  which  can 
exist  apart  from  one  another;  they  are  phases  of  the 
same  feeling  separable  only  through  abstraction.  Each 
is  further  resolvable  into  two  types  : feeling  for  others, 
into  sympathy  and  antipathy;  feeling  for  self,  into 
humility  and  pride. 

(1.)  Sympathy  and  Antipathy. — Both  of  these  feel- 
ings manifest  the  essential  unity  of  human  nature,  ap- 
pearing though  it  does  in  various  individuals.  They 
are  feelings  which  result  from  the  identification  of 
one’s  self  with  another , antipathy  no  less  than  sympa- 
thy. Were  it  not  for  the  unity  of  one  nature  with  an- 
other, and  the  possible  identification  resulting  from  this 
kinship,  the  feeling  of  indifference  (which  is  properly 
not  a feeling,  but  its  absence)  would  be  the  only  state 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


329 


of  mind  in  which  one  person  could  stand  towards  an- 
other. 

Antipathy . — The  special  forms  of  antipathy  are  dis- 
gust and  indignation.  In  disgust  we  identify  the  state 
of  mind  or  experience  of  others  with  ourselves,  and 
find  it  repulsive  to  our  own  actual  state.  Indignation 
is  to  be  distinguished  from  anger  and  rage.  The  lat- 
ter are  more  or  less  blind,  impulsive  outbursts  of  feel- 
ing against  whatever  obstructs  our  pleasurable  activity 
or  brings  us  positive  pain.  They  may  be  directed 
against  things  as  well  as  persons ; it  is  only  by  experi- 
ence that  they  come  to  be  restricted  to  the  latter.  In- 
dignation is  a feeling  that  results  from  identifying  the 
course  of  action  or  emotional  mood  of  another  with 
ourselves,  when  this  course  or  mood  comes  short  in 
large  measure  of  our  own  ideal.  Could  we  not  iden- 
tify the  other  person  with  self,  and  then  measure  both 
by  a common  ideal,  the  feeling  of  indignation  would 
be  impossible. 

Sympathy. — This  feeling  results  from  an  identifica- 
tion with  self  of  such  experiences  of  others  as  are  felt 
to  be  possible  experiences  of  our  own.  The  feeling 
may  be  unpleasant  as  much  as  that  of  disgust  it- 
self, but  the  experience  which  excites  the  latter  feel- 
ing is  one  which  we  feel  repulsive  to  our  inmost  self; 
while  that  awakening  sympathy  we  feel  as  something 
common  to  our  natures.  In  sympathy  we  take  the  feel- 
ings of  another  for  our  own  ; in  disgust  or  indignation, 
we  say  that  we  would  not  have  such  feelings  for  our 
own.  We  generally  speak  of  sympathizing  with  the 
griefs  of  others,  but,  of  course,  sympathy  comprehends 
their  joys  as  well.  But  the  community  of  sorrow 
seems  wider  than  that  of  gladness. 


330 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Origin  of  Sympathy. — Sympathy  has  its  origin  in 
what  is  termed  resonance  or  contagion  of  feeling. 
There  is  a psj'chical  atmosphere  as  well  as  a physical, 
and  one  living  in  this  atmosphere  absorbs  and  reflects 
it.  Laughter  and  crying  are  both  “ catching.”  We 
unconsciously  reproduce  the  feelings  of  those  about 
us;  we  take  on  their  mood  unaware.  The  method  ap- 
pears to  be  as  follows  : we  see  the  physical  sign  of  grief 
or  joy.  By  pure  reflex  or  imitative  action  our  own 
features  tend  to  take  on  this  expression  and  induce  the 
same  feeling.  There  is  the  tendency  to  interpret  this 
sign,  and  as  the  feeling  can  be  interpreted  only  as  it 
is  reproduced,  the  person  himself  assumes  the  mood. 
We  know  what  the  sign  of  anger  means  only  as 
we  ourselves  feel  anger.  These  two  facts  combined 
form  the  psychological  mechanism  of  the  origin  of 
sympathy. 

Nature  of  Sympathy. — But  this  is  only  the  basis  of 
the  emotion.  As  already  said,  in  sympathy  we  take 
the  feelings  of  others  for  our  own.  The  process  just 
described  only  reproduces  in  ourselves  the  feelings  of 
others;  it  originates  certain  emotions  in  ourselves,  but 
that  is  all  that  it  does.  For  sympathy,  we  must  not 
only  have  this  feeling  ourselves,  but  we  must  recog- 
nize, in  addition,  that  it  is  the  experience  of  some  one 
else.  A skilful  actor  may,  by  the  foregoing  process, 
awaken  in  us  just  the  emotion  which  he  desires,  but 
this  is  not  necessarily  sympathy.  For  we  may  recog- 
nize that  it  is  all  a “ show,”  a make-believe,  and  thus, 
while  experiencing  just  the  same  feelings  as  the  actor, 
never  dream  of  projecting  them  beyond  ourselves,  and 
of  regarding  them  as  the  real  feelings  of  others.  Sym- 
pathy, in  short,  is  the  reproduction  of  the  experience 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


331 


of  another,  accompanied  by  the  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  it  is  his  experience. 

Conditions  of  Sympathy. — The  conditions  of  sympa- 
thetic feeling  are,  therefore,  first,  ability  to  apprehend, 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  the  feelings  of  others, 
and  to  reproduce  them  in  our  minds;  and,  secondly, 
the  ability  to  forget  self,  and  remember  that  these  feel- 
ings, although  our  own  feelings,  are,  after  all,  the  ex- 
perience of  some  one  else.  Sympathy  involves  dis- 
tinction as  well  as  identification.  I must  not  only 
assume  into  myself  the  experiences  of  a man  who  is 
suffering  from  poverty,  in  order  to  sympathize  with 
him,  but  I must  realize  them  as  his  ; I must  separate 
them  from  my  own  personal  self,  and  objectify  them 
in  him. 

Thus  it  is  that  many  persons  who  are  extremely  sen- 
sitive to  the  feelings  of  others  are  quite  unsympathet- 
ic. They  register  in  their  own  mood  each  slight  vari- 
ation of  feeling  in  those  about  them,  as  a barometer 
registers  physical  variations;  but  they  have  no  true 
sympathy,  for  they  regard  these  new  feelings  only  as 
new  experiences  of  their  own ; they  do  not  project 
them  outward.  The  conditions  of  such  projection  are, 
first,  sufficient  emotional  experience  of  our  own  to 
be  able  to  apprehend  and  take  on  those  of  others; 
second,  such  an  active  interest  in  others  as  will  en- 
able us  to  regard  these  experiences  as  truly  theirs. 
We  must  not  only  take  their  life  into  ours,  but  wTe 
must  put  ours  into  them.  Sympathy,  as  active  inter- 
est, thus  becomes  love  and  a spring  to  action,  which 
we  will  treat  under  the  second  head. 

Function  of  Sympathy.  — It  is  impossible  to  over- 
estimate the  importance  of  sympathy  in  the  emotional 


332 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


life.  It  is  there  what  attention  is  in  the  strictly  intel- 
lectual department;  as  the  latter  is  the  sole  means  by 
which  objects  and  relations  come  within  the  reach  of 
our  consciousness,  so  sympathy  is  the  sole  means  by 
which  persons  come  within  the  range  of  our  life.  It 
is  thus  an  extremely  universal  feeling,  for  it  takes  us 
beyond  what  constitutes  our  immediate  personality, 
our  private  interests  and  concerns,  into  what  univer- 
sally constitutes  personality.  It  may  be  limited  at  first 
to  those  of  our  own  family,  our  own  rank  in  society, 
our  own  neighborhood,  but  this  is  because  of  a defec- 
tive sympathy ; it  is  because  we  have  learned  to  sym- 
pathize only  with  that  which  is  in  harmony  with  some 
limited  aspect  of  our  own  nature  ; as  our  nature  widens 
and  becomes  developed  there  must  be  a corresponding 
increase  of  sympathy,  and  this  increase  can  reach  its 
end  only  in  a completely  developed  personality,  a per- 
sonality which  has  become  absolutely  universal.  Such 
a sympathy  can,  of  course,  recognize  no  distinction  of 
social  rank,  wealth,  or  learning,  or  anything  that  tends 
to  cut  off  one  person  from  another. 

Sympathy  and  Social  Relations. — Sympathy  is  the 
bond  of  union  between  men ; it  is  to  the  social  sphere 
what  gravitation  is  to  the  physical.  It  is  the  expres- 
sion of  the  spiritual  unity  of  mankind.  While  it 
may,  in  its  undeveloped  condition,  be  confined,  it  is 
always  widening  to  reach  more  men,  and  deepening 
to  include  more  fundamental  relations  between  men. 
It  constitutes  society  an  organic  whole,  a whole  per- 
meated by  a common  life,  where  each  individual  still 
lives  his  own  distinct  life  unabsorbed  in  that  of  the 
community.  It  is  possible,  perhaps,  to  conceive  of 
a development  of  sympathy  such  that  each  individ- 


PERSONAL  PEELING. 


333 


ual  should  simply  take  into  himself  the  experiences 
of  others,  and  not  project  them  outward  in  realiz- 
ing that  they  are  the  experiences  of  persons.  Such 
a development  would  result  in  each  living  a self- 
absorbed  life,  without  recognizing  his  relations  of  spir- 
itual identity  with  other  men.  Or  it  is  possible  to 
conceive  such  a development  of  sympathy  that  each 
should  simply  project  himself  outward,  and  lose  his 
individual  life  in  the  life  of  the  community,  becoming 
more  and  more  absorbed  in  it.  In  this  case  a sense 
of  separate  personality  would  be  lost.  But,  as  matter 
of  fact,  the  nature  of  sympathy  is  such  that  growth  in 
individuality  is  a necessary  accompaniment  of  growth 
of  universality  of  feeling.  Sympathy  identifies  others 
with  one’s  self,  and  at  the  same  time  distinguishes 
them  from  one’s  self.  It  enables  us  to  realize  our  true 
nature,  which  is  universal  personality,  by  widening  our 
life  till  it  becomes  as  comprehensive  as  humanity,  and 
at  the  same  time  deepens  our  own  distinct  individual- 
it}r.  The  growth  of  feeling  is  like  the  growth  of 
knowledge — it  becomes  more  individual  through  uni- 
versal  relations. 

(2.)  Pride  and  Humility. — As  sympathy  and  antip- 
athy are  feelings  for  others  as  connected  with  self,  so 
pride  and  humility  are  feelings  of  self  as  related  to 
others.  Pride  is  a sense  of  our  own  worth  com- 
pared with  a personality  not  ourselves,  and  humility 
is  a sense  of  our  demerit  compared  with  such  a per- 
sonality. Pride  may  be  self-respect.  As  such,  it  is 
the  feeling  that  we  are  personalities ; that  there  is  em- 
bodied in  us  the  infinite  value  of  a self  which  is  worthy 
of  respect  wherever  found.  As  such,  it  is  not  an  egoistic 
feeling,  but  the  obverse  of  sympathy.  In  short,  it  is 


334 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


not  feeling  of  our  particular  separate  qualities;  it  is 
feeling  of  our  universal  nature,  that  which  we  have  in 
common  with  all  personalities.  When  it  is  the  feeling 
of  some  quality,  acquirement,  or  circumstance  of  self, 
pride  takes  the  form  of  self-complacency,  conceit,  van- 
ity. Such  feelings  are  egoistic,  and  prevent  the  person 
from  getting  outside  of  himself. 

Humility. — Humility  is  not  necessarily  opposed  to 
self-respect.  As  self-respect  is  the  recognition  in  feel- 
ing that  wre  are  persons,  and,  as  such,  cannot  be  put  to 
any  low  use,  so  humility  is  the  sense  of  the  con- 
trast between  this  personality  which  constitutes  our 
real  (that  is,  objective  and  universal)  being,  and  our 
actual  state  of  attainment.  As  such,  pride  and  hu- 
mility necessarily  accompany  each  other.  Humility 
may,  however,  be  the  sense  of  our  own  particular 
worth  as  compared  with  the  particular  worth  of 
somebody  else.  As  such  it  takes  the  form  of  sensi- 
tiveness, self  - depreciation,  perhaps  even  to  degrada- 
tion ; though  it  may  occur  in  the  form  of  modesty, 
which,  if  genuine,  is  rather  the  absence  of  conceit  than 
a positive  form  of  feeling. 

Complex  Forms. — It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  our 
analysis  is  able  to  correspond  to  the  actual  wealth 
of  positive  relations  which  social  feelings  assume ; 
we  are  able  only  to  indicate  a few  of  the  leading- 
types.  We  may  mention  in  addition  certain  more 
complex  forms  which  result  from  the  simple  combi- 
nation of  these  types.  Antipathy  combined  with 
the  egoistic  form  of  humility,  gives  rise  to  the  feeling 
of  envy  ; sympathy,  similarly  combined,  gives,  jealousy, 
for  where  there  is  jealousy  there  is  sympathy  regard- 
ing the  end  in  view,  but  recognition  of  one’s  own  in- 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


335 


feriority,  while  envy  would  carp  at  all  the  attainments 
of  another.  Malice  is  the  egoistic  form  of  pride  joined 
with  antipathy;  covetousness  is  the  same  form  of  feel- 
ing combined  with  sympathy.  The  student  will  find 
it  an  excellent  psychological  analysis  to  take  the  almost 
infinite  variety  of  social  feelings  and  analyze  them  into 
their  elementary  types. 

2.  Moral  Feelings. — The  moral  feelings  are  based 
upon  the  social  feelings,  and  are  an  outgrowth  of 
them.  We  recognize  moral  relations  to  those  whom 
we  feel  to  be  identical  in  nature  with  ourselves.  The 
feeling  of  sympathy  as  the  basis  of  this  identifica- 
tion of  natures  is,  therefore,  the  source  of  all  moral 
feeling.  Moral  feelings  may  be  extended  to  include 
all  possible  relations,  intellectual  and  aesthetic,  as  well 
as  the  strictly  social,  but  this  only  when  these  relations 
are  brought  into  connection  with  personality.  In  study- 
ing moral  feelings  we  have  only  to  ascertain  how  they 
are  developed  out  of  the  social  feelings,  and  what  ele- 
ments, hitherto  unrecognized,  this  development  intro- 
duces. 

Feelings  of  Rightness. — As  the  essential  characteris- 
tic of  an  intellectual  feeling  is  that  it  is  the  sense  of 
truth,  or  the  harmony  between  one  object  and  relation 
and  the  ideal  unity  of  all  relations ; as  the  essential 
characteristic  of  an  aesthetic  feeling  is  that  it  is  the 
sense  of  beauty,  or  the  harmony  between  an  object 
and  the  ideal  value  of  all  objects,  so  moral  feeling  is 
the  sense  of  rightness,  the  feeling  of  the  harmony  ex- 
isting between  an  act  of  a person  and  the  ideal  of  per- 
sonality. The  feeling  that  an  act  is  right  is  the  feeling 
that  in  that  act  the  ideal — that  is,  the  perfectly  objec- 
tive and  universal — personality  is  realized  ; the  feeling 


336 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  the  wrongness  of  an  act  is  the  feeling  that  it  does 
not  conform  to  this  ideal  of  personality,  but  contra- 
venes it.  Intellectual  feeling  deals  with  the  relations 
of  objects;  aesthetic  feeling  with  their  ideal  values; 
social  feelings  with  the  relations  of  persons;  moral 
feelings  with  the  ideal  relations  and  worths  of  per- 
sons. 

Moral  Feeling  is  only  Explicit  Social  Feeling. — It 
is  evident  from  this  that  moral  feeling  only  brings  into 
conscious  recognition  what  is  all  the  time  involved  in 
social  feeling.  The  essence  of  social  feeling  is  that  in 
it  man  feels  himself  identified  with  a self  more  com- 
prehensive, more  permanent  than  his  own  private  and 
particular  being.  He  feels  his  true  life  to  be  that  of 
all  personalities;  he  feels,  in  short,  that  he  cannot  real- 
ize himself  except  in  a self  which  will  unite  and  har- 
monize all  the  varied  experiences  of  humanity.  It  is 
not  meant,  of  course,  that  this  relation  of  the  actual 
self  to  the  ideal,  universal  self  is  consciously  recog- 
nized by  all  to  be  present  when  they  experience  social 
feeling.  It  is  only  meant  that  a fair  analysis  reveals 
this  relation  as  constituting  its  essence.  But  in  moral 
feeling  this  relation  is  brought  more  explicitly  into 
consciousness.  In  moral  feeling  man  feels  his  true 
self  to  be  one  which  comprehends  possible  relations  to 
all  men,  and  all  acts  which  are  necessary  to  bring  the 
actual  self  into  harmony  with  this  true  self,  to  make 
his  will,  in  other  words,  conform  to  a universal  will, 
he  conceives  as  duties. 

The  Feeling  of  Obligation. — Besides  the  feeling  of 
rightness,  it  is  evident  that  moral  sentiment  involves 
the  feeling  of  obligation.  In  intellectual  feeling,  and 
in  sesthetic  feeling,  there  is  no  sense  of  obligation. 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


337 


We  simply  feel  that  the  truth  or  the  beauty  is  there. 
We  feel  no  responsibility  for  its  existence.  If  we  feel 
any  responsibility  to  reproduce  them  in  ourselves,  it  is 
only  because  we  have  brought  them  in  relation  to  per- 
sonality, and  have  conceived  them  as  elements  of  a 
completed  personality — as  merely  intellectual  and  aes- 
thetic no  such  responsibility  is  felt.  But  the  feeling 
that  a universal  self  is  our  own  true  being  is  neces- 
sarily accompanied  by  the  feeling  of  obligation  and 
responsibility.  We  feel  bound  to  realize  our  own  nat- 
ure because  it  is  our  nature,  and  feel  responsible  for 
its  non-realization,  because  we  are  not  dealing  with  a 
material  which  seems  partially  external  to  ourselves, 
and  hence  out  of  our  control,  like  the  relations  consti- 
tuting the  universe,  or  the  ideal  values  which  these 
relations  express,  but  with  our  own  very  selves. 

Reverence  and  Remorse. — The  combination  of  feel- 
ings of  rightness  and  of  obligation  gives  rise  to  the 
feeling  of  reverence.  Reverence  is  the  feeling  that  the 
object  towards  which  it  is  directed  is  completely  uni- 
versal, realizing  in  itself  the  wills  of  all  men,  and  hence 
is  entirely  “ right  ” or  perfect,  combined  with  the  feel- 
ing that  this  personality  is  not  foreign  to  our  nature, 
but  is  its  true  being,  and  hence  is  an  absolute  obliga- 
tion upon  it.  The  social  feeling  of  humility  becomes 
greatly  deepened  in  the  presence  of  such  an  ideal  per- 
sonality. Remorse  is  the  feeling  of  the  chasm  exist- 
ing between  this  ideal  and  our  own  actual  state  through 
some  act  of  our  own.  We  feel  that  we  ought  to  have 
realized  our  own  being,  and  that  we  could  have  done 
so,  but  that  we  have  not.  The  feeling  of  this  split, 
this  dualism,  in  our  nature  constitutes  remorse. 

3.  Religious  Feeling.  — Moral  feeling  is  the  out- 
15 


338 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


growth  and  manifestation  of  the  true  nature  of  social 
feeling;  religious  feeling  bears  a similar  relation  to 
moral.  There  is  a conflict  in  moral  feeling  as  such. 
Moral  feeling  lays  hold  of  our  own  true  self,  as  one 
harmonizing  all  elements  of  human  character,  and  says 
that  this  ought  to  be  made  real,  and  that  our  actual 
self  must  be  made  into  conformity  with  it.  Moral 
feeling  involves,  therefore,  a gulf  between  the  actual 
and  the  ideal  or  universal  self.  Our  own  nature  does 
not  completely  manifest  itself  in  moral  relations ; it 
does  so  partly,  and  ought  to  do  so  wholly.  Our  nature 
can  be  completely  objectified  or  realized  only  when 
the  chasm  between  what  is  and  what  ought  to  be,  be- 
tween the  actual  and  the  ideal  self,  is  overcome.  Re- 
ligious experience  is  the  sphere  in  which  this  iden- 
tification of  one’s  self  with  the  completely  realized 
personality,  or  God,  occurs.  Religious  feeling  is, 
therefore,  the  completely  universal  feeling,  and  with 
it  the  progressive  development  of  feeling  ends.  It 
brings  into  our  experience  the  elements  which  are  in- 
volved in  moral  and  social  feeling,  but  are  not  made 
explicit  in  them.  We  shall  briefly  mention  some  of 
these  elements. 

Feeling  of  Dependence.  — In  the  feeling  that  our 
actual  self  is  not  our  true  self  there  is  involved  the 
element  of  dependence.  In  social  relations  we  feel 
ourselves  dependent  upon  other  personalities  for  our 
development;  we  feel  that  isolated  we  are  deprived  of 
most  of  our  powers.  In  moral  relations  this  depend- 
ence is  consciously  felt,  and  is  expressed  in  the  emotion 
of  obligation.  To  feel  that  we  ought  to  realize  a cer- 
tain personal  worth  is  to  feel  our  dependence  upon 
that  worth.  But  this  feeling  does  not  become  com- 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


339 


plete.  There  is  always  our  own  private  self  which  is 
set  up  over  against  the  universal  self;  this  private  self 
cannot  be  got  rid  of  in  moral  action,  although  we  feel 
that  it  ought  to  be  abolished.  But  in  religious  feeling 
we  recognize  the  worthlessness,  the  nullity , of  this  pri- 
vate separate  self,  and  surrender  ourselves  wholly  to 
the  perfect  personality,  God.  We  feel  that  there  is 
absolutely  no  independent  element  in  us.  It  follows, 
of  course,  that  the  feeling  is  not  one  of  physical  de- 
pendence, one  upon  power,  but  a spiritual  dependence; 
that  whatever  we  have  and  are  is  not  of  our  particular 
selves,  but  from  God. 

Feeling  of  Peace.  — Another  element  of  religious 
feeling  is  that  of  the  feeling  of  peace.  This  emotion 
is  that  of  complete  reconciliation,  of  harmony.  So  far 
as  we  attain  the  moral  ideal  there  is  this  feeling,  for 
the  moral  ideal  is  simply  a completely  unified  person- 
ality, but,  as  already  mentioned,  the  moral  life  is  one  of 
conflict.  The  unity  is  not  attained.  In  the  religious 
life,  however,  so  far  as  one  gives  up  wholly  his  own 
particular  self  (and  except  as  he  does  this,  there  is  no 
religious  life),  and  takes  the  life  of  the  completely  har- 
monious Personality  for  his  own,  he  is  not  living  a 
life  of  conflict,  but  of  apprehending  that  which  abso- 
lutely is.  There  can  be  no  essential  dualism  in  his  life, 
for  the  only  thing  which  is  real  for  him  is  that  Being 
in  whom  personality  is  complete.  There  is,  therefore, 
the  feeling  of  peace. 

The  Feeling  of  Faith.  — Both  in  social  and  moral 
relations  faith  is  involved.  In  moral  relations,  for 
example,  one  says  that  something  must  be  realized  by 
him  which  exists  not  as  matter  of  fact,  but  as  an  ideal. 
The  moral  ideal  is  not  a mere  fact  in  the  world ; it  is 


340 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


truly  an  ideal,  that  which  ought  to  be  actual,  but  is  not 
seen  to  be  so.  It  is  true  that  morality  is  not  an  imagi- 
nation, it  is  manifested  in  living  characters  in  society 
and  the  state;  but  these  get  all  their  moral  force  be- 
cause they  are  felt  to  be  expressions  of  an  ideal.  This 
ideal,  therefore,  not  existing  as  so  much  fact,  must  be 
apprehended  by  faith.  The  moral  life  is  one  of  faith, 
for  it  constantly  asserts  that  the  final  reality  for  man 
is  that  which  cannot  be  made  out  actually  to  exist. 

The  religious  life  only  brings  this  element  to  con- 
scious recognition.  It  says  that  that  of  which  alone 
the  individual  can  be  sure  as  matter  of  fact,  namely, 
his  private  self,  is  unreal,  and  that  the  sole  reality  is 
the  perfect  and  universal  personality,' God,  who  cannot 
be  immediately  felt  to  be.  It  asserts  that  this  Person- 
ality is  not  only  ideal,  and  an  ideal  which  ought  to  be 
real,  as  moral  feeling  asserts  of  its  object,  but  that  it  is 
perfectly  real.  Since  the  entire  intellectual,  aesthet- 
ic, and  moral  life  is  one  of  idealization,  it  is  evident 
that  the  feeling  of  faith,  which  religion  insists  upon  and 
induces,  is  the  feeling  which  is  implicitly  involved  in 
all  experience  whatever.  Religious  feeling,  or  faith,  is 
absolutely  universal,  universal  in  its  object,  and  univer- 
sal as  coextensive  with  all  experience. 

II.  Personal  Feeling  as  Spring  to  Action. — Personal 
feeling  takes  the  form  of  interest  in  persons.  It  is 
necessarily  directed  outwards.  It  can  find  its  satisfac- 
tion only  in  the  realization  of  that  in  which  its  interest 
lies.  Considered  in  this  light,  personal  feeling  is  love. 
Love  is  to  persons  what  admiration  is  to  ideal  values, 
or  wonder  to  the  objective  universe.  It  is  not  a sub- 
jective sentiment,  nor  a passive  affection.  It  is  active 
interest.  It  is  not  receptive  in  its  nature,  but  creative. 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


341 


It  is  essentially  objective.  We  may  be  pleasurably  af- 
fected by  individuals,  and  may,  through  association,  ex- 
tend the  pleasure  we  experience  to  these  individuals; 
we  may  include  them  within  the  sphere  of  our  personal 
enjoyment.  But  this  is  not  love,  although  it  is  one  of 
the  means  by  which  love  comes  into  existence.  As 
wonder  and  admiration  are  forgetfulness  of  self  in  the 
presence  of  the  universe  of  objects  and  ideals,  so  love 
is  forgetfulness  of  self  in  the  presence  of  persons. 

Love  and  Hate. — All  love  is  sympathy  considered  as 
spring  to  action,  and  hate  is  antipathy.  It  has  been  mat- 
ter of  discussion  among  psychologists  whether  there  is 
any  such  feeling  as  pure  hate  or  malevolence.  Some 
have  asserted  and  others  denied  that  it  is  possible  to 
assume  an  utterly  hostile  attitude  towards  others,  and 
find  pleasure  in  their  loss.  In  one  signification  of  the 
term  hate,  it  is  necessarily  implied  in  love.  As  love  is 
interest  in  the  well-being  of  another  for  his  own  sake, 
it  involves  hatred  for  all  that  hinders  this  well-being:. 
Since  we  recognize  that  well-being  is  personal  and  cannot 
be  controlled  by  non-personal  considerations,  we  recog- 
nize that  these  hinderances  must  be  due  to  the  person 
himself,  and  in  that  sense  we  may  be  said  to  hate  him. 
We  hate,  in  other  words,  all  that  prevents  the  realization 
of  our  love.  The  hatred  is  simply  the  negative  side  of 
love.  Since,  however,  love  is  necessarily  an  emotion 
which  finds  its  satisfaction  in  persons,  hate  as  a feeling 
directed  towards  persons  in  themselves  is  a psychologi- 
cal impossibility.  Personality  is  a universal  character- 
istic, and  we  could  not  hate  a person  in  himself  without 
hating  our  own  self. 

Like  and  Dislike. — Love,  however,  has  an  abnormal 
form.  It  is  possible  that  the  feeling  should  not  lose 


342 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


itself  in  others,  but  should  become  turned  inwards,  and 
exist  for  the  satisfaction  of  one’s  private  self.  We  may 
regard  others,  in  other  words,  only  so  far  as  they  min- 
ister to  our  individual  satisfaction.  Our  feeling:  tow- 
ards  them  may  be  because  they  “ agree  ” with  ns,  or  are 
agreeable;  because  they  produce  pleasurable  emotions 
in  us.  Such  affections  are  “likes”  rather  than  love. 
Similarly  they  may  affect  us  disagreeably;  they  may 
cause  us  unpleasant  experiences.  They  may  do  this 
by  the  possession  of  some  quality  which  constantly  re- 
minds us  of  our  own  inferiority,  by  some  quality  which 
irritates  us,  or  by  actually  injuring  us.  Such  persons 
we  dislike.  But  such  feeling  Is  an  egoistic  feeling,  not 
a social  one,  while  hate  proper,  since  it  is  directed 
only  towards  that  which  hinders  self-realization,  is,  in 
effect,  a social  feeling.  Most  of  what  is  ordinarily 
called  hatred  is  either  malice  or  dislike. 

Products  of  Love. — Love,  as  interest  in  the  well- 
being of  personality,  is  necessarily  creative.  Wonder 
creates  science,  admiration  creates  the  tine  arts;  love 
creates  the  various  forms  of  personal  relations  and  in- 
stitutions : of  these,  the  primary  and  fundamental  is 
the  family,  based  upon  sexual,  parental,  and  filial  love. 
It  is  the  most  immediate  and  intimate  form  which  in- 
terest in  others  takes.  It  is  based  in  the  greatest  de- 
gree upon  the  immediate  and  direct  demands  of  our 
nature ; the  demands  for  reproduction,  for  nourishment, 
for  shelter,  for  protection.  As,  however,  it  is  in  the 
family  that  each  personality  most  fully  expresses  his 
own  nature,  as  the  relations  of  persons  to  each  other 
are  there  the  most  intimate,  it  becomes  the  fundamental 
social  unit,  the  primary  moral  agency,  and  the  ultimate 
source  of  religious  education. 


PEESONAL  PEELING. 


343 


Other  Forms. — Love,  however,  cannot  be  restricted 
to  those  with  whom  we  are  in  immediate  natural  and 
physical  relations.  Wherever  there  is  a person,  there 
is  a possible  object  of  personal  interest.  Love  widens 
into  friendship,  which,  taken  in  a comprehensive  sense, 
is  the  basis  of  all  social  relations.  Society,  as  an  insti- 
tution, is  but  the  manifestation,  the  realization,  of  per- 
sonal feeling  as  a spring  to  action.  Personal  feeling 
can  find  its  goal  only  in  relations  to  persons,  which  are 
permanent  and  universal ; and  all  that  we  call  society, 
state,  and  humanity  are  the  realization  of  these  perma- 
nent and  universal  relations  of  persons  which  are  based 
upon  active  sympathy. 

Psychologically,  the  bond  of  union  in  society  and  the 
state  is  not  law  in  a legal  or  judicial  sense ; much  less 
force.  It  is  love.  Law  is  the  expression  of  the  fact 
that  love  is  not  an  ill-regulated  gush  of  sentiment  nor 
a personal  indulgence,  but  is  the  universal  and  natural 
manifestation  of  personality.  The  force  which  society 
employs  is  the  recognition  by  society  that  the  uni- 
versal personality  is  an  absolute  obligation  upon  every 
member  of  society ; and  that  only  in  society  can  this 
personality  be  realized,  and  that  every  breach  of  social 
relations  is  a hinderance  to  the  accomplishing  by  man 
of  his  true  life.  It  is  the  manifestation  by  society  of 
that  hate  which  is  necessarily  implied  in  all  love.  The 
highest  product  of  the  interest  of  man  in  man  is  the 
Church.  This  brings  into  explicit  consciousness  the 
elements  involved  in  all  social  organization.  It  re- 
quires love  as  the  supreme  obligation,  and  it  brings  to 
light  the  relation  of  this  love  to  the  perfect  and  uni- 
versal personality,  God. 

III.  Feeling  as  Social  Judgment , Conscience. — The 


344 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


feeling  of  rightness  necessarily  passes  over  into  the 
judgment  of  rightness.  "We  regard  the  feeling  not  as 
something  which  we  subjectively  experience,  but  as  an 
attribute  of  the  act  of  personality.  We  do  so  because 
we  conceive  that  to  be  right  which  agrees  with  the  con- 
ditions of  a complete  personality,  and  such  a person- 
ality we  instinctively  feel  to  be  universal  and  objective. 
The  moral  judgment  is  the  explicit  presence  in  con- 
sciousness of  the  objective  factor  involved  in  all  per- 
sonal feeling.  The  moral  judgments,  taken  together, 
are  referred  to  a power  called  conscience.  Conscience 
is  not,  however,  to  be  conceived  as  a special  faculty  of 
mind.  As  feeling,  it  is  the  emotion  of  rightness  and 
obligation,  together  with  the  consequent  remorse  or 
approbation  flowing  from  a feeling  of  conformity  or 
non-conformity  to  the  obligation.  As  intellectual,  it  is 
the  apprehension  of  the  content  of  these  feelings;  the 
apprehension  of  the  quality  of  moral  acts  measured  by 
the  ideal  of  personality. 

Nature  of  Conscience. — Conscience  is,  therefore,  in- 
tuitive. It  is  not  such  in  the  sense  that  it  enunciates 
universal  laws  and  principles,  for  it  lays  down  no  laws. 
Conscience  is  a name  for  the  experience  of  personality 
that  a given  act  is  in  harmony  or  in  discord  with  a 
truly  realized  personality.  It  is  the  internal  side  of 
every  personal  experience.  These  experiences  are  nec- 
essarily connected  with  feelings  of  pleasure  and  of  pain, 
of  approbation  and  disapprobation.  That  which  is  felt 
to  correspond  to  the  perfect  ideal  of  man  is  felt  as  har- 
monious, and  calls  forth  the  feeling  of  moral  harmony 
which  we  call  approbation.  Conscience,  like  the  intel- 
lectual and  the  aesthetic  sense,  is  capable  of  develop- 
ment. To  say  this,  is  only  to  say  that  man’s  moral 


PERSONAL  FEELING. 


345 


nature  is  in  process  of  realization.  With  every  new  real- 
ization of  personality  conies  a higher  ideal  of  what 
constitutes  a true  man,  and  a keener  response  to  rela- 
tions of  harmony  and  discord.  So  every  degradation 
of  manhood  is  accompanied  by  a lowering  of  the  ideal 
which  one  can  form,  a blunted  sense  of  what  conforms 
to  it,  and  approbation  of  what  would  otherwise  flood 
the  soul  with  displeasure.  Conscience  is,  indeed,  a 
feeling  of  the  universal  and  objective  worth  of  per- 
sonal acts,  but  in  what  degree  its  feelings  are  true  to 
fact  depends  upon  how  universal  and  objective  is  the 
self  which  feels. 

Conscience  and  Ethics.  — The  moral  feeling,  like 
the  intellectual  and  aesthetic,  is  individual.  It  is  the 
intuitive  expression  of  the  moral  nature  of  the  indi- 
vidual. Reason  may,  however,  investigate  the  sponta- 
neous and  intuitive  declarations  of  feeling  to  find  the 
grounds  upon  which  it  works,  and,  having  reflectively 
analyzed  these  grounds,  may  formulate  them  in  the 
laws  of  conduct,  as  it  formulates  the  canons  of  taste, 
and  the  rules  of  logic.  It  thus  attempts  to  arrive  at 
universal  laws  of  action  and  permanent  qualities  of 
right  action.  It  must  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that 
a moral  law  is  an  abstraction.  The  concrete  fact  is  a 
living  personality,  and  what  we  call  an  ethical  law  is  a 
mode  of  action  which  has  been  separated  by  reflective 
analysis  from  this  personality.  The  moral  individual 
does  not  live  to  realize  moral  law,  but  to  resize  him- 
self, and  what  are  termed  moral  laws  are  those  modes 
of  action  which  are  observed  to  be  harmoniously  re- 
lated to  such  realization.  While  ethics  is  a legitimate 
analysis  of  the  moral  sense,  an  attempt  to  make  it 
render  up  its  hidden  meaning,  casuistry  is  an  abnormal 
15* 


346 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


manifestation  of  it.  It  is  the  attempt  to  formulate  rules 
to  decide  between  right  and  wrong  action  in  specific 
cases.  It  thus  attempts  to  substitute  for  the  uncon- 
strained freedom  of  the  person  external  and  foreign 
prescriptions.  The  heart  of  the  moral  life  lies  in  the 
free  personal  determination  of  right  and  wrong.  No 
set  of  rules  can  take  the  place  of  this  personal  deter- 
mination without  destroying  the  vital  spring  of  morals. 

Upon  social  feeling  we  refer  to  the  following:  Sully,  “ Psychology,”  pp. 
508-518;  Murray  (op.  cit.'),  pp.  360-377;  McCosh  (op.  cit.),  p.  215  If.;  Bain, 
“ Emotions  and  Will,”  pp.  106-188,  210-227  ; Brown  (op.  cit.'),  vol.  ii.,  pp. 
206-253 ; Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  558-577,  587-626 ; Martineau  (op.  cit.), 
vol.  ii.,  pp.  134-141 ; Laurie,  “Ethica,”  pp.  104-119;  Marion,  “La  Solidarity 
Morale,”  pp.  163-205;  De  Guimps  (op.  cit.),  pp.  444-449;  Perez,  “L’Educa- 
tion,”  pp.  224-264;  Nalilowsky  (op.  cit.),  pp.  215-333;  Horwicz  (op.  cit.),  vol. 
ii.,  pt.  2,  pp.  353-466,  479-504;  Michelet  (op.  cit.),  pp.  474-485;  Ulrici  (op. 
cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  346-356;  Fortlage,  “Acht  psychologische  Vortrage”  (essay 
on  “Friendship”);  Lazarus,  essay  on  “Friendship,”  in  “Das  Leben  der  Seele;” 
Schmidt,  “Ueber  das  Mitgefiihl;”  Duboc,  “ Psychologie  der  Liebe.”  Re- 
garding feelings  of  self,  see  Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  356-360;  McCosh  (op.  cit.), 
pp.  7-42;  Bain,  “Emotions  and  Will,"  pp.  128-144;  Stephens,  “Science  of 
Ethics,”  pp.  219-227 ; Lotze,  “ Microcosinus,”  pp.  696-706 ; Rosenkranz  (op. 
cit.),  pp.  143-156;  Horwicz  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pt.  2,  pp.  232-301;  Preyer  (op. 
cit.),  pp.  392-406;  Joly,  “Notions  de  Pedagogie,”  pp.  196-210.  Upon  moral 
and  religious  feeling,  see  Caird,  “ Philosophy  of  Religion,”  ch.  ix. ; Martineau 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  19-64;  Laurie,  “Ethica,”  pp.  28-37,  59-68,  148-155; 
Bain,  “ Emotions  and  Will,”  pp.  121-125,  286-322 ; Abercrombie,  “ Philosophy 
of  Moral  Feelings;”  Ulrici  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  356-390  (moral),  pp.  418-453 
(religious)  ; Strlimpell  (op.  cit.),  p.  278  ff. ; Nalilowsky  (op.  cit.),  pp.  197-213; 
Horwicz  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pt.  2,  pp.  302-352,  512-520;  Volkmann  (op.  cit.), 
vol.  ii.,  pp.  363-373.  For  a pessimistic  view,  see  Ree,  “Der  Ursprung  der 
moralischen  Empfindungen,”  with  which  compare  Von  Hartmann,  “ Phano- 
menologie  des  sittlichen  Bewusstseins,”  pp.  163-322. 


PART  III.— THE  WILL. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

SENSUOUS  IMPULSES. 

Nature  of  Will. — The  term  will  has  a narrower  and 
a wider  sense.  In  its  broad  sense  it  is  synonymous  with 
all  psychical  activity  having  a mental  and  not  merely  a 
physiological  stimulus,  and  which  accomplishes  any  re- 
sult whether  intended  or  not.  In  the  narrower  sense 
the  word  is  limited  to  action  arising  from  an  idea  and 
ending  in  making  this  idea  real ; in  changing  it  from 
an  idea  into  a presentation.  In  the  narrower  sense, 
there  is  required  for  will  a union  of  feeling  and  knowl- 
edge in  one  and  the  same  act.  Will  always  unites  me 
with  some  reality , either  transforming  an  element  of  the 
me  into  objective  reality,  or  bringing  that  objective  re- 
ality into  the  sphere  of  my  immediate  feeling.  It  thus 
connects  the  content  of  knowledge  with  the  form  of  feel- 
ing. Or,  again,  there  is  no  knowledge  without  atten- 
tion ; but  attention  is  simply  the  activity  of  will  as  it 
connects  a universal  content  with  an  individual  sub- 
ject. There  is  also  no  feeling  except  as  an  accompani- 
ment of  some  activity.  Both  knowledge  and  feeling, 
therefore,  find  their  basis  in  will. 

The  Will  and  Sensuous  Impulses. — The  will  is  not 
purely  formal,  but  has  a real  content  of  its  own.  This 
is  supplied  primarily  through  the  sensuous  impulses. 


348 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


These  do  not  of  themselves  constitute  will,  any  more 
than  sensations  constitute  knowledge.  As  the  latter 
consists  in  relating,  connecting,  and  systematizing  sen- 
sations, in  mastering  and  interpreting  them,  so  will  gets 
its  existence  in  the  co-ordination  and  mutual  regulation 
of  the  sensuous  impulses;  in  bringing  them  into  har- 
monious relations  with  each  other  through  their  subor- 
dination to  a common  end.  We  have,  for  example, 
impulses  which  induce  us  to  locomotion;  these  im- 
pulses do  not  constitute  a volition  until  the}7  are  con- 
nected with  one  another,  and  organized  into  a defi- 
nite mode  of  action.  The  sensuous  impulses,  in  other 
words,  constitute  the  raw  material,  the  basis  of  will ; 
they  must  be  elaborated  into  the  actual  forms  of  voli- 
tion through  a process.  We  shall  take  up,  therefore, 
in  this  chapter,  the  raw  material ; shall  then  pass  on  to 
the  processes  of  development  of  this  material ; and 
finally  consider  some  of  the  results,  the  concrete  mani- 
festations, occasioned  by  the  action  of  the  processes  on 
the  sensuous  impulses. 

Sensuous  Impulse  Defined. — Sensuous  impulse  may 
be  defined  as  the  felt  pressure  of  a state  of  consciousness 
arising  from  some  bodily  condition  to  express  itself  in 
prodiicing  some  physical  change.  It  involves,  there- 
fore, some  affection  of  the  physical  organism  which 
occasions  a state  of  consciousness ; and  this  state  of 
consciousness  is  not  purely  quiescent,  but  involves  in 
itself,  as  it  were,  a surplus  of  energy  which  reacts 
against  the  external  stimulus  in  some  way.  For  exam- 
ple, the  nervous  mechanism  of  the  eye  is  affected  by 
aetheric  vibration;  the  molecular  motion  conducted  to 
the  brain  results  there  in  the  state  of  consciousness 
which  we  call  the  sensation  of  light.  But  there  is  also 


SENSUOUS  IMPULSES. 


349 


an  affection  of  tlie  self ; there  is  a tendency  either  to 
direct  the  eye  towards  the  light  or  away  from  it.  The 
energ}7  of  this  tendency  or  pressure  towards  or  from  a 
physical  stimulus  is  sensuous  impulse.  The  stimulus, 
of  course,  may  arise  from  within,  as  iu  the  case  of 
hunger,  where  it  is  a condition  of  the  organism.  The 
sensation  of  hunger,  so  far  as  it  gives  us  information 
of  the  state  of  our  body,  is  the  basis  of  knowledge;  so 
far  as  it  is  a pleasurable  or  painful  affection  of  self,  it 
is  feeling;  so  far  as  it  is  the  tendency  to  react  upon 
this  feeling,  and  satisfy  it,  by  bringing  about  some 
objective  change,  it  is  impulse. 

Reflex  Action. — A sensuous  impulse  involves,  there- 
fore, both  an  internal  and  external  side.  It  has,  as  a 
necessary  prerequisite,  a state  of  feeling,  an  affection 
which  is  agreeable  or  the  reverse.  But  it  has,  as  its 
necessary  outcome,  a tendency  towards  physical  ex- 
pression, an  actual  change  of  the  body.  There  must 
be,  accordingly,  some  mechanism  to  connect  these  two 
sides,  to  give  the  internal  feeling  its  external  expres- 
sion. This  mechanism  is  known  as  reflex  action.  The 
nerves  of  the  cerebro-spinal  system  of  the  body  are 
either  sensory  or  motor ; that  is  to  say,  they  either  con- 
duct the  stimulus  from  a sense-organ  inwards,  or  they 
conduct  a stimulus  from  a central  organ  to  a group  of 
muscles.  These  sensory  and  motor  nerves  unite  in 
ganglia  near  the  spinal  cord.  When  a stimulus  is 
transferred  from  a sensory  nerve  to  a motor  without 
the  conscious  intervention  of  the  mind,  we  have  reflex 
action. 

That  is  to  say,  reflex  action  is  the  direct  and  imme- 
diate deflection  of  a stimulus  having  a sense  origin 
into  a motor  channel.  If  something  suddenly  ap- 


350 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


proaches  the  eye,  the  nerve  stimulus  is  transferred  to 
the  spinal  cord,  and,  instead  of  being  thence  continued 
to  the  brain,  and  giving  rise  to  a sensation,  it  is  dis- 
charged into  a motor  nerve,  and  the  eye  is  immediate- 
ly closed.  Coughing,  chewing,  swallowing,  etc.,  are  oth- 
er examples  of  reflex  acts.  Keflex  action,  as  such,  is  a 
physiological  process,  but  it  is  of  importance  here  be- 
cause it  forms  the  physical  basis  of  sensuous  impulse. 
The  reflex  action,  in  itself,  involves  no  consciousness, 
while  the  sensuous  impulse  does;  but  the  union  of 
sensory  and  motor  nerves,  whether  in  the  spinal  cord 
or  brain,  affords  the  mechanism  by  which  any  feeling 
may  discharge  itself  in  producing  physical  change,  and 
thus  relieve  the  pressure. 

Classes  of  Impulses. — Strictly  speaking,  sensuous  im- 
pulses would  be  confined  to  impulses  accompanying  the 
immediate  feelings  which  come  from  our  senses,  gen- 
eral and  special,  but,  owing  to  their  great  similarity  of 
nature,  we  shall  treat,  in  connection  with  them,  im- 
pulses of  perception,  imitative  impulses,  ideational  im- 
pulses, and  instinctive  impulses,  considering  under  the 
latter  head  especially  those  of  expression. 

1.  General  Sense  Impulses. — Every  sensation,  as  a con- 
crete fact,  is  an  impulse.  In  treating  sensation  under 
the  head  of  knowledge,  we  spoke  of  it  as  if  it  were  a 
mere  state  of  the  mind.  That  is  only  one  side  of  it. 
It  is  also  a reaction  against  the  stimulus;  it  is  a dis- 
turbance of  the  equilibrium  of  the  organism,  setting 
free  energy  which  must  discharge  itself  in  producing 
some  change.  This  is  seen  most  plainly  in  the  organic 
senses,  where  the  senses  appear  as  appetites,  or  as  reg- 
ularly recurring  tendencies  to  the  appropriation  of 
material  external  to  the  organism,.  These  demands  of 


SENSUOUS  IMPULSES. 


351 


the  sense  organs  may  be  constant,  as  that  for  air;  or 
periodical,  as  those  for  food  and  drink ; or  irregular, 
like  the  sexual.  But  in  all  cases  the  sensation  is  not 
exhausted  in  itself,  but  is  an  impulse  goingoutupon 
some  foreign  material.  It  expresses,  in  other  words, 
the  demand  of  the  mind  to  make  something  outside 
of  itself  part  of  itself ; in  the  given  cases,  part  of  its 
physical  self. 

2.  Special  Sense  Impulses. — This  fact  is  no  less  true 
of  the  special  senses.  There  is  a hunger  of  the  sense  of 
touch  for  bodies;  of  the  sense  of  hearing  for  sounds; 
of  the  sense  of  sight  for  light  and  its  colors.  The  con- 
tact of  the  hand  with  a body  is  reacted  upon  with  an 
impulse  to  explore  that  body,  to  “ feel  ” it.  Every  sound 
is  a stimulus  to  the  mind  to  observe  it,  to  note  its  qual- 
ity, its  relations,  etc.  If  it  is  particularly  pleasant,  the 
mind  acts  by  an  impulse  to  continue  it;  if  disagreea- 
ble, to  destroy  its  cause,  or  to  take  the  body  out  of  its 
hearing.  Were  not  sensations  something  more  than 
mere  sensations,  were  they  not  impulses  to  action, 
knowledge  would  not  originate  ; for  there  would  be 
nothing  to  induce  the  mind  to  dwell  upon  the  sensation 
with  the  accentuating  action  of  attention ; nothing  to 
direct  the  mind  to  its  qualities  and  relations.  It  fol- 
lows, as  a matter  of  course,  that  will  would  not  origi- 
nate, for  there  would  be  nothing  to  induce  the  mind  to 
put  forth  its  activities  at  all,  much  less  anything  to  in- 
duce it  to  put  them  forth  in  this  direction  rather  than 
in  that. 

3.  Impulses  of  Perception. — The  sensuous  impulses 
just  spoken  of  follow  directly  out  of  the  state  of  feel- 
ing, involving  no  recognition  of  an  object.  There  are, 
however,  impulses  which  follow  as  directly  from  the 


352 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


perception  of  some  object,  involving  no  consciousness 
of  the  end  of  the  action , and  such  we  may  call  impulses 
of  perception.  They  all  come  under  the  general  head 
of  impulses  to  grasp  something.  There  seems  to  be  a 
connection  of  some  sort  between  the  recognition  of  an 
object  and  a tendency  to  reach  for  and  grasp  it.  This 
tendency  is  seen  very  fully  developed  in  infants.  The 
child  soon  reaches  for  all  objects  -\yhich  come  within 
the  range  of  his  vision  ; this  impulse  easily  develops  it- 
self into  the  flay  impulse.  The  child  grasps  for  ob- 
jects, handles  them,  moves  them  here  and  there,  throws 
his  arms  about,  with  no  end  in  view  except  the  expres- 
sion of  his  own  activity.  It  is  the  development  of  the 
muscular  impulse  in  connection  with  the  recognition 
of  objects,  and  is  of  great  importance  as  a stimulus  to 
activity,  and  as  constantly  initiating  new  modes  of  ac- 
tivity. 

4.  Impulses  to  Imitation. — Growing  out  of  the  im- 
pulses of  perception,  and  forming  a large  part  of  the  ma- 
terial of  play,  are  the  impulses  to  imitate  or  reproduce 
any  perceived  movement.  This  again  is  especially  mani- 
fest in  children,  being  seen  both  in  their  sports  and  in 
their  relations  to  their  elders,  and  is  one  of  the  most 
important  factors  in  their  education.  A child,  by  pure 
force  of  imitation,  takes  on  very  largely  the  artistic 
and  moral  coloring  of  his  environment.  The  force  of 
the  imitative  impulse  is  seen  very  clearly,  also,  in  hyp- 
notized persons.  The  tendency  to  imitate  is  ordinarily 
checked  by  the  presence  in  consciousness  of  other  ideas 
and  ends  incompatible  with  the  bare  reproduction  of 
something  externally  perceived  ; but  when  these  are 
excluded  from  the  sphere  of  consciousness,  as  they  are 
in  persons  in  a somnambulic  condition,  whether  natu- 


SENSU0U3  IMPULSES. 


353 


ral  or  induced,  this  tendency  holds  complete  sway,  and 
such  persons  often  accurately  reproduce  every  move- 
ment of  the  one  operating  upon  them. 

5.  Ideational  Impulses. — Ideas,  as  well  as  feelings  and 
perceptions,  may  be  impulses  to  action.  In  ordinary 
life  they  are  so  only  when  harmonized  with  each  other 
and  brought  into  reference  with  some  end  of  action, 
and  hence  are  not  impulses  truly  so  called.  In  abnor- 
mal cases,  however,  the  ideas  seem  to  be  freed  from 
their  co-ordination  and  subordination,  and  to  work 
freely  on  their  own  account.  In  hypnotized  persons, 
for  example,  any  idea  suggested  is  immediately  exe- 
cuted, as  swimming,  ascending  in  a balloon,  delivering 
an  oration,  etc. 

Those  having  to  do  with  persons  of  disordered  nature 
recognize  what  they  call  “ compulsory  ideas  ” ( Zwangs - 
vorstellungen ),  where  the  individual  is  impelled  to  the 
execution  either  of  every  idea  that  occurs  to  him,  or 
of  some  one  kind  of  ideas,  often  finding  terrible  ex- 
pression in  murder  or  suicide.  In  such  cases  the  in- 
dividual is  haunted  constantly  by  a certain  idea,  and 
finds  no  relief  except  in  the  performance  of  the  corre- 
sponding act,  and  this  although  he  may  be  suffering 
under  no  intellectual  delusion  whatever  regarding  the 
nature  of  his  act. 

6.  Instinctive  Impulses. — In  a wide  sense  all  the 
impulses  hitherto  mentioned  are  instinctive.  An  in- 
stinctive act  may  be  defined  as  one  to  which  an  indi- 
vidual feels  himself  impelled  without  knowing  the  end 
to  be  accomplished , yet  with  ability  to  select  the  proper 
means  for  its  attainment.  In  a sense  more  specific, 
instinctive  impulses  raay  be  distinguished  from  the 
forms  of  sensuous  impulse  just  discussed.  The  ground 


354 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  distinction  will  be  the  fact  that  the  latter  are  reac- 
tive or  reproductive  only,  while  instinctive  impulses 
initiate  new  modes  of  activity,  having  results  far  be- 
yond their  immediate  occasion.  Such,  for  example,  is 
the  instinctive  action  of  a bird  in  building  his  nest.  It 
is  not  only  in  response  to  the  immediate  stimulus,  but 
it  looks  forward  to  a long  future  course  of  actions,  in 
rearing  the  young,  etc. 

Instincts  in  Man.  — A complete  discussion  of  the 
origin,  nature,  and  function  of  instinct  would  take  us 
into  the  realm  of  comparative  psychology,  but  we  have 
to  recognize  the  fact  that  every  human  being  per- 
forms many  acts  which  are  directly  fitted  to  reach  an 
end  without  his  knowing  what  the  end  is,  or  why  he 
uses  the  means  that  he  does.  So  far,  indeed,  as  our 
intellectual,  artistic,  and  moral  activity  is  directed  tow- 
ards an  end  of  which  we  have  not  complete  conscious- 
ness, but  which  we  yet  succeed  in  reaching  without 
much  experimenting,  it  may  be  said  that  instinct  enters 
into  all  the  psychical  life  of  man. 

Instincts  of  Expression. — Under  the  general  head  of 
instinct  come  those  acts  by  which  the  infant  takes  food, 
by  which  he  learns  locomotion,  etc.  Owing  to  their 
typical  character  and  their  greater  psychological  im- 
portance, we  shall  treat  briefly  of  the  impulses  which 
express  feeling  and  ideas.  There  is  a certain  class 
of  physical  movements  which  serve  to  express  internal 
states,  and  which  do  this  with  no  intentional  con- 
sciousness. Such  are  the  cry  of  pain,  the  laugh  of  joy, 
the  trembling  of  anger  or  fear,  the  blush  of  shame, 
the  stare  of  astonishment,  etc.  They  are  of  twofold 
importance:  in  the  first  place,  they  form  the  instinc- 
tive basis  upon  which  individuals  are  bound  together; 


SENSUOUS  IMPULSES. 


355 


and,  in  the  second  place,  they  form  the  material  out  of 
which  are  developed  the  higher  and  intentional  forms 
of  communication.  The  first  use  may  be  illustrated 
by  the  cry  of  the  infant,  which  immediately  awakens  a 
response  from  its  mother.  The  expression  not  only 
gives  an  outlet  to  the  emotion,  but  occasions  certain 
actions  in  others. 

Principles  of  the  Expressive  Impulses. — Every  im- 
pulse is  expressed  by  a gesture , using  the  word  in  the 
widest  sense.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  reduce 
gestures  to  classes,  and  account  for  them  on  certain 
principles,  all  conventional  gestures  being,  of  course, 
excluded.  Mr.  Darwin  formulated  three  principles : 
first,  that  of  serviceable  associated  habits ; second,  of  an- 
tithesis ; third,  that  of  direct  action  of  nervous  centres. 
By  the  last  is  meant  that  when  the  brain  is  strongly 
excited  nerve  force  is  generated  in  excess,  and  is  trans- 
mitted in  certain  definite  directions.  Examples  of  it 
are  found  in  change  of  color  of  hair  from  excessive 
grief,  perspiration  from  great  pain,  the  reddening  of 
the  face  in  rage  (from  disturbed  heart  action),  etc. 
The  principle  of  antithesis  presupposes  the  prior  action 
of  other  principles,  and  affirms  that  when  a certain 
emotion  expresses  itself  in  a certain  way  there  is  a 
strong  involuntary  tendency  for  an  opposite  emotion 
to  express  itself  in  an  opposite  direction.  Thus,  if 
feelings  of  fear,  depression,  etc.,  are  expressed  by  re- 
laxation and  trembling  of  the  muscles,  feelings  of 
strength,  elation,  etc.,  will  express  themselves  by  con- 
traction of  the  muscles  and  a general  expansion  of  the 
body. 

Serviceable  Associated  Habits. — The  chief  principle 
which  Mr.  Darwin  relies  upon  is  that  of  serviceable 


35G 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


associated  habits,  in  connection  with  the  laws  of  hered- 
itj.  This  principle  may  be  stated  as  follows : certain 
actions  are  now,  or  have  been  at  some  time,  serviceable 
to  the  organism  in  connection  with  certain  feelings, 
and  have  thus  become  associated  with  those  feelings. 
Hence,  when  the  feeling  recurs,  the  associated  move- 
ment reappears,  whether  or  not  it  is  serviceable  in  this 
particular  case,  and,  indeed,  even  when  it  has  become 
wholly  useless.  The  expressions  of  extreme  rage,  for 
example,  as  the  drawing  up  of  the  upper  lip,  the  gnash- 
ing of  the  teeth,  the  spasmodic  movements  of  the  fin- 
gers, are  relics  of  a time  when  these  gestures  were  of 
use  in  biting,  clutching,  etc.,  that  which  caused  the 
anger.  So  expressions  of  scorn,  hatred,  etc.,  are  actions 
which  were  once  associated  with  an  actual  attack  upon 
an  enemy,  or  movements  which  wrere  calculated  to  in- 
spire fear  or  submission  in  him. 

Wuncli's  Principles.  — Wundt  has  supplemented 
these  principles  by  two  which  he  calls  those  (1)  of 
analogous  feelings  and  (2)  of  the  relations  of  movement 
to  sense-ideas.  By  the  latter  principle  is  meant  that 
when  we  speak  of  persons  or  objects  which  are  present 
we  point  to  them ; if  absent,  in  their  direction  ; that 
we  unconsciously  imitate  their  shape,  measure  their 
size,  etc.,  by  movements  of  the  hands.  The  principle 
of  the  association  of  analogous  feelings  states  the  law' 
that  feelings  of  a similar  emotional  tone  are  easily  con- 
nected, and  that  when  connected  the  expression  of  one 
is  transferred  to  the  other.  For  example,  there  is  a 
certain  expression  following  the  tasting  of  sweet  sub- 
stances, another  of  bitter,  etc.  How  all  experiences, 
howrever  ideal  in  their  nature,  which  are  agreeable  pos- 
sess a tone  analogous  to  that  of  the  sweet  taste,  and 


SENSUOUS  IMPULSES. 


357 


hence  they  naturally  express  themselves  by  the  same 
external  signs.  Such  are  the  principles  recognized  by 
the  chief  authorities,  but  the  matter  cannot  be  regarded 
as  scientifically  settled  yet. 

j Expressive  Impulses  and  Language. — Those  physical 
changes  which  express  emotions  serve  as  signs  to  oth- 
ers of  our  own  state,  and  thus  form  the  basis  of  com- 
munication. By  language,  however,  we  mean,  in  addi- 
tion, the  expression  of  thoughts,  involving  also  the 
idea  that  the  expression  is  with  the  conscious  purpose 
of  sharing  our  experience  with  others.  But  as  these 
signs  come  under  the  general  definition  of  gesture,  they 
may  be  very  briefly  noticed  here.  They  all  come 
originally  under  the  second  principle  of  Wundt.  He 
recognizes  two  sorts  of  signs  of  this  class — the  demon- 
strative, which  point  towards  the  object,  and  the  plas- 
tic, which  imitate  some  of  its  salient  features.  These 
gestures,  by  a sort  of  reflex  action,  are  accompanied  by 
sounds  which  aid  in  expressing  the  emotion  awakened, 
and  which,  by  the  principle  of  association  of  anal- 
ogous feelings,  react  upon  and  strengthen  the  dumb 
gestures.  Thus  the  sound  becomes  in  time  the  sign 
of  the  object.  The  sounds,  in  short,  have  certain 
likenesses  in  emotional  tone  to  the  feelings  awakened 
by  objects,  and  this  likeness  enables  them  to  sym- 
bolize the  object  to  the  mind.  This  forms  the  sen- 
suous basis  of  speech.  It  must  be  recognized,  how- 
ever, that  the  sound  must  be  used  with  the  intention 
of  its  serving  as  a sign,  must  be  recognized  by  others 
as  a sign,  and  must  be  adopted  by  the  community  be- 
fore it  becomes  language  proper.  And  not  all  author- 
ities agree  with  Wundt  in  his  account  of  the  origin  of 
vocal  gesture,  or  speech.  This  question  opens  up  the 


358 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


•whole  wide  field  of  the  psychology  of  language,  into 
which  we  cannot  go. 

Upon  reflex  action  and  motor  impulse,  see  Ferrier  (op.  cit.),  ch.  ii.;  Bain, 
“Senses  and  Intellect,”  pp.  4G-53,  262-276;  “Emotions  and  Will,”  pp.  351- 
387;  Preyer  (op.  cit.),  pp.  157-215;  Volkmann  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  321-338; 
vol.  ii.,  pp.  437-451 ; Lotze,  “ Microcosmus,”  pp.  254—261 ; Wundt,  in  Mind,  vol. 
i.,  p.  161  ff.,  on  “ Central  Innervation  and  Consciousness Lazarus,  “ Ueber  die 
Beize  des  Spiels ;”  and  especially  for  the  whole  subject  of  impulse,  Schneider, 
“ Der  thierische  Wille,”  pp.  95-418.  Upon  impulses  of  expression,  see  Darwin, 
“Expression  of  Emotions;”  Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  539-557;  Sully, 
“Sensation  and  Intuition,”  pp.  23-37;  Ferrier  (op.  cit.),  p.  67  ff. ; Wundt, 
“ Phys.  Psy.”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  418-427  ; Michelet  (op.  cit.),  pp.  215-234 ; Schneider, 
“Der  menschliche  Wille,”  pp.  453-488;  Rosenkranz  (op.  cit.),  pp.  163-184. 

Upon  instinct,  in  addition  to  references  in  Appendix  B,  see  Spencer  (op. 
cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  432-443 ; chapter  on  instinct  in  Darwin’s  “ Origin  of  Species ;” 
Bascom’s  “ Comparative  Psychology,”  pp.  147-178 ; Perez,  “ First  Three 
Years,”  pp.  44-59 ; Joly,  “ L’lnstinct ;”  Preyer  (op.  cit.),  pp.  174-207  ; Wundt, 
“ Phys.  Psy.”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  327-344 ; Schneider,  “ Der  thierische  Wille,”  pp.  55- 
84 ; George  (op.  cit.),  pp.  169-204. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 

Impulses  and  Volition.  — The  sensuous  impulses 
form  the  basis,  the  material,  the  sine  qua  non  of  voli- 
tion, but  they  do  not  constitute  it.  Volition  is  regu- 
lated, harmonized  impulse.  It  involves  a double  proc- 
ess : first,  the  various  impulses  must  be  co  - ordinated 
with,  each  other ; secondly,  they  must  all  be  brought 
into  harmonious  relations  with  an  end,  must  be  sub- 
ordinated to  one  principle.  Volition  is  impidse  con- 
sciously directed  towards  the  attainment  of  a recog- 
nized end  which  is  felt  as  desirable. 

Elements  of  Volition. — A volition  or  act  of  will  in- 
volves, therefore,  over  and  above  the  impulse,  knowl- 
edge and  feeling.  There  must  be  knowledge  of  the 
end  of  action;  there  must  be  knowledge  of  the  rela- 
tions of  this  end  to  the  means  by  which  it  is  to  be  at- 
tained; and  this  end  must  awaken  a pleasurable  or 
painful  feeling  in  the  mind;  it  must  possess  an  inter- 
esting quality,  or  be  felt  to  be  in  immediate  subjective 
relation  to  the  self.  The  impulses  furnish  the  moving 
force  by  which  the  end  whose  quality  is  recognized, 
and  whose  necessity  for  the  happiness  of  self  is  felt,  is 
actually  brought  about.  It  is  the  energy  which  fur- 
nishes its  actual  accomplishment,  directed  along  the 
channels  laid  down  by  the  intellect  for  the  satisfaction 
of  feeling.  Feeling,  in  other  words,  determines  the 
position  of  the  lever ; knowledge  furnishes  the  fulcrum 


360 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


for  its  use;  the  impulse  applies  the  force.  Each  of 
these  elements  is  an  abstraction  arrived  at  by  analysis 
from  the  concrete  whole — a volition. 

Development  of  Volition. — We  have,  therefore,  to 
study  the  process  by  which  the  concrete  forms  of  voli- 
tion are  built  up  from  the  crude  material  of  impulse. 
The  successive  steps  of  the  process  may  be  formulated 
as  follows : First,  there  is  awakened  the  state  of  mind 
known  as  desire ; there  is  then  a conflict  of  desires; 
this  is  concluded  by  the  process  of  deliberation  and 
choice  ",  these  result  in  the  formation  of  an  end  of  ac- 
tion which  serves  as  the  purpose  or  motive  of  action  ; 
this  purpose  is  then,  through  the  medium  of  its  felt 
desirability,  handed  over,  as  it  were,  to  the  realm  of 
the  impulses,  which  realize  it. 

1.  Desire. — We  begin  with  Desire,  and  shall  study 
its  (1)  origin,  (2)  object,  and  (3)  development. 

(1.)  Origin.  — Impulse  does  not  constitute  desire. 
Impulse  goes  straight  and  blindly  at  an  end,  but  it 
does  not  know  this  end,  nor  does  it  feel  that  there 
will  be  pleasure  in  reaching  it.  A bird  in  building 
its  nest  has  no  thought  of  the  purpose  which  the  nest 
is  to  subserve,  nor  does  it  feel  that  any  pleasure  is  to 
be  gained  by  building  it.  It  builds  to  satisfy  the  felt 
pressure  from  within.  The  internal  force  of  feeling 
constrains  it  to  act  in  a certain  way.  When,  however, 
an  act  has  been  once  or  oftener  performed  through  im- 
pulse, and  a certain- end  is  reached  which  is  discovered 
to  be  pleasurable  or  painful,  there  arises  the  state  of 
mind  known  as  desire  or  as  aversion. 

Example. — The  child,  for  example,  impelled  by  a 
perceptive  impulse,  grasps  for  an  object.  He  reaches 
it,  we  will  say,  and  it  proves  soft  and  pleasure-giving 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


361 


to  touch  and  possibly  to  the  palate.  Now,  by  the  laws 
of  apperception,  this  pleasure  and  this  object  are  asso- 
ciated together  as  parts  of  one  experience.  Or,  it  is 
felt  as  rough;  perhaps  it  burns;  at  all  events,  it  occa- 
sions pain.  This  pain  and  its  object  are  associated. 
Now  this  object  stands  in  a certain  definite  relation  to 
experience,  and  a relation  which  is  brought,  according 
to  the  theory  of  pleasure  previously  explained  (page 
2S6),  into  intimate  and  personal  connection  with  the  self. 
The  object  now  has  an  interest,  and  becomes  a spring 
to  action.  This  objective  interest  constitutes  desire. 
Impulse  occurs  no  longer  blindly,  but  with  reference 
to  that  object  which  satisfies  itself,  this  satisfaction 
being  made  known  to  us  through  pleasure.  Desire  and 
aversion  are  impulse  jolus  respectively  the  idea  of  an  ob- 
ject which  satisfies  or  thwarts  the  impulse,  as  revealed 
to  us  by  pleasure  or  pain. 

(2.)  Object  of  Desire. — It  has  been  held  that  what  we 
desire  is  in  all  cases  pleasure,  what  we  are  averse  to  is 
pain.  For  example,  a child  desires  an  apple.  It  is 
said  that  the  true  object  towards  which  the  desire  is 
directed  is  the  pleasure  which  comes  of  eating  the  ap- 
ple. If  a man  desires  to  resist  temptation  and  tell  the 
truth,  his  real  object  of  desire  is  the  pleasure  which  re- 
sults from  the  act.  But  it  is  evident  that  this  view 
overlooks  two  facts.  First,  the  pleasure  is  a mere  ab- 
straction ; the  concrete  existence  is  the  object  which 
gives  the  pleasure.  It  is  quite  true  that  no  object 
would  be  desired  unless  it  were  in  that  relation  to  self 
which  we  call  feeling,  that  is,  pleasure  or  happiness ; 
but  it  is  just  as  true  that  what  is  desired  is  not  the 
pleasure,  but  the  object  which  affords  pleasure.  The 
other  fact  which  is  overlooked  is  that  we  do  not  desire 
16 


362 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  object  because  it  gives  us  pleasure ; but  that  it 
gives  us  pleasure  because  it  satisfies  the  impulse  which, 
in  connection  with  the  idea  of  the  object,  constitutes 
the  desire.  The  child  desires  the  apple,  for  he  has  the 
idea  of  the  apple  as  satisfying  his  impulse.  Only  for 
this  reason  does  he  conceive  it  as  pleasure -giving. 
Pleasure  follows  after  the  desire,  rather  than  deter- 
mines it. 

And  this  is  not  in  contradiction  to  what  has  been 
said  regarding  the  origin  of  desire.  Desire  is  the  im- 
pulse plus  the  feeling  of  satisfaction  got  in  its  realiza- 
tion. But  impulse  is  always  towards  an  end,  and  the 
satisfaction  is  because  this  end  has  been  reached.  De- 
sire merely  adds  the  knowledge  or  feeling  of  that  line 
of  conduct  or  of  that  object  in  which  the  impulse  will 
fulfil  itself.  Desire  is  the  impulse  in  its  known  objec- 
tive connection.  The  pleasure  is  one  element  in  it, 
and  an  element  subordinated  to  the  objective  experi- 
ence. 

Desire  and  the  Self. — While  in  a proximate  way  it 
is  true  that  the  object  as  satisfying  impulse,  and  there- 
fore giving  pleasure,  is  the  end  of  desire,  in  ultimate 
reference  the  truth  is  that  a certain  conceived  state  of 
the  self  is  the  object  of  desire.  What  the  child  con- 
cretely desires  is  himself  in  possession  of  the  apple  ; 
what  the  man  desires  is  himself  in  conformity  with  a 
certain  idea  of  himself — himself  as  truth-telling.  The 
object  which  satisfies  the  impulse  is  only  the  means- 
through  which  the  desire  is  realized.  It  is  desired 
only  because  it  is  felt  to  be  necessary  to  the  satisfac- 
tion of  self.  Pleasure,  as  we  have  so  often  seen,  is  the 
accompaniment  of  the  activity,  or  development  of  the 
self.  It  has  no  existence  except  as  the  internal  side  of 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


363 


this  activity.  When  it  is  said  that  the  object  of  desire 
is  pleasure,  this  can  be  interpreted  to  mean  only  that 
what  is  desired  is  a certain  activity  or  realization  of 
self,  which  is  anticipated  as  pleasurable,  since  it  is  a 
realization. 

(3.)  Development  of  Desire. — The  development  of 
desire  is  constituted  by  the  progressive  objectification 
of  impulse.  As  sensation  becomes  knowledge  when  it 
is  distinguished,  and  thus  ceases  to  be  a mere  state  or 
affection  of  self,  so  impulse  becomes  desire  when  it 
ceases  to  be  a mere  outgoing  towards  something  which 
is  not  consciously  presented  to  the  mind,  and  becomes 
distinguished  from  the  self  as  a possible  end  of  action. 
Desire  implies  a consciousness  which  can  distinguish 
between  its  actual  state  and  a possible  future  state, 
and  is  aware  of  the  means  by  which  this  future  state 
can  be  brought  into  existence.  It  involves  a perma- 
nent self  which  regards  itself  both  as  a present  and  fut- 
ure self,  and  acts  with  reference  to  their  connection. 
It  involves,  in  short,  a self  which  can  project  or  objec- 
tify itself.  It  not  only  has  impulse,  but  it  knows  that 
it  has;  it  sets  before  itself  the  satisfaction  of  impulse 
as  the  form  which  action  may  take.  The  development 
of  desire  will  consist,  accordingly,  in  the  increasing  sep- 
aration of  the  impulse  as  an  immediate  affection  from 
the  self,  and  its  objectification  into  a possible  end  of 
action.  The  impulse  for  food  develops  into  the  desire 
for  it  when  the  condition  of  want  is  recognized  and 
distinguished  from  the  present  self;  when,  in  short,  it 
is  objectified. 

Systejn  of  Desires. — All  desires  form  a system,  that 
is,  have  an  internal  connection  with  each  other.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  an  isolated  desire,  a desire  which 


364 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


does  not  get  its  quality  fixed  by  its  reference  to  other 
desires.  The  self  forms  a necessary  bond  of  union  be- 
tween them.  When  desire  for  food  and  drink  ceases 
to  be  a blind  impulse,  it  is  put  in  possible  relation  to 
all  the  acts  of  the  man.  The  man’s  desire  for  food 
has  reference  to  his  desire  to  live  and  perform  certain 
acts ; to  support  his  family,  to. gain  a recognized  posi- 
tion, to  contribute  to  society.  It  is  a pure  abstraction 
apart  from  such  reference.  Even  the  desire  for  intox- 
icating liquor  implies  such  a reference,  unless  it  is  blind 
impulse.  It  implies  love  of  companionship,  desire  to 
drown  sorrow,  to  escape  from  pressure  of  physical  irri- 
tation or  of  circumstance,  etc.  The  child’s  desire  to 
eat  an  orange  may  be  in  relation  with  a desire  to  obey 
a command,  a desire  to  put  off  the  pleasure  to  some 
other  time,  a desire  to  be  generous,  etc.  Just  in  the 
degree  in  which  desire  is  developed,  it  is  brought  into 
relation  with  a larger  and  larger  sphere  of  desires. 
Desire  must  be  as  universal  as  the  self  is.  The  devel- 
opment of  desire  being  through  the  objectification  of 
self  and  the  recognition  in  feeling  of  the  distinction 
between  the  actual  and  the  unrealized  self,  it  follows 
that  as  desire  is  developed,  each  desire  is  brought  into 
wider  relations  with  self,  and  hence  with  other  desires. 

The  Conflict  of  Desires. — Because  no  desire  is  iso- 
lated, but  each  is  in  potential  relation  to  every  other, 
through  its  connection  with  self,  it  follows  that  desires 
may  conflict  with  each  other.  The  desire  to  work  and 
to  support  a family  may  conflict  with  desire  for  per- 
sonal ease  or  indulgence ; the  desire  to  tell  the  truth 
with  that  to  gain  some  personal  advantage  or  avoid 
harm ; the  desire  to  eat  an  orange  with  the  desire  to 
give  it  away.  That  is  to  say,  the  person  may  regard 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


365 


himself  as  satisfied  in  various  modes  of  action  which 
are  incompatible  with  each  other.  The  self  projects 
itself  or  imagines  itself  realized  in  these  various  forms ; 
since  the  actual  realization  in  one,  however,  precludes 
that  in  another,  there  arises  strife.  It  is  important  to 
notice  that  it  is  a strife  or  conflict  which  goes  on  in  the 
man  himself;  it  is  a conflict  of  himself  with  himself  ; 
it  is  not  a conflict  of  himself  with  something  external 
to  him,  nor  of  one  impulse  with  another  impulse,  he 
meanwhile  remaining  a passive  spectator  awaiting  the 
conclusion  of  the  struggle.  What  gives  the  conflict  of 
desires  its  whole  meaning  is  that  it  represents  the  man 
at  strife  with  himself.  He  is  the  opposing  contestants 
as  well  as  the  battle-field. 

2.  Choice. — The  recognition  of  the  conflict  of  de- 
sires leads  us  to  the  discussion  of  the  mode  in  which 
it  is  settled — the  fact  of  choice.  The  conflict  arises 
because  the  self  is  capable  of  feeling  itself  satisfied  in 
various  modes  of  action  or  being,  only  one  of  which 
can  actually  be  brought  about.  The  process  of  choice 
is  that  process  by  which  some  one  of  the  conflicting 
desires  is  first  isolated  and  then  identified  with  the  self 
to  the  exclusion  of  others.  This  process  may  be  longer 
or  shorter,  automatic  or  a painful  deliberation. 

Automatic  Choice  and  Deliberation. — In  perhaps  the 
larger  number  of  cases  in  adult  life  the  conflict  is  set- 
tled so  directly  and  immediately  that  it  hardly  appears 
in  consciousness.  Choice  is  the  identification  with  self 
of  a certain  desire ; when  the  desire  is  in  accord  with 
the  direction  in  which  the  self  habitually  works,  this 
identification  takes  place  almost  automatical!}’.  For 
example,  a merchant  can  hardly  be  said  to  choose  to  go 
to  his  business  in  the  morning.  The  desires  which  con- 


366 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


flict  with  this  deed  are  generally  so  transient,  compared 
with  the  fixed  routine,  that  the  man  instinctively,  as 
we  say,  goes  to  his  work.  In  other  words,  his  self  has 
become  so  organized  in  one  direction  through  past  acts 
of  choice,  it  has  become  so  stable  and  set,  that  it  iden- 
tifies itself  with  this  act  at  once.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  question  is  as  to  some  new  venture  in  trade,  there 
is  no  such  organized  self  to  fall  back  upon.  The  de- 
sire of  new  gain,  the  aversion  to  possible  loss,  the  de- 
sire to  continue  in  old  lines,  and  to  get  the  better  of  a 
competitor,  struggle  with  each  other;  probabilities  upon 
this  side  and  that  must  be  weighed,  and  it  is  only  at 
the  end  of  a process  of  deliberation  that  a choice  is 
made,  or  one  line  of  conduct  identified  with  self.  De- 
liberation is  the  comparison  of  desires,  their  mutual 
reference  to  each  other;  choice  is  the  decision  in  favor 
of  one. 

3.  The  End  of  Action  or  Motive. — A desire  when 
chosen  becomes  a motive.  We  often  speak  of  a con- 
flict of  motives,  but  in  strict  use  this  is  improper. 
There  is  a conflict  of  desires,  but  the  formation  of  a 
motive  is  the  cessation  of  the  conflict  by  settling  the 
self  upon  some  one  motive.  A motive  is  sometimes 
spoken  of  as  the  strongest  desire.  This  may  be  either 
false  or  a mere  truism.  It  is  not  true  if  it  is  meant 
to  imply  that  the  desires  carry  on  a conflict  with  each 
other  till  all  but  the  strongest  is  exhausted,  and  this 
survives  by  sheer  preponderance  of  force.  No  such 
conflict  goes  on.  The  conflict  of  desires  is  the  con- 
flict of  self  Avith  self.  The  conflict  of  desires  ends 
when  the  self  reconciles  or  concludes  this  internal 
struggle  by  setting  itself  in  some  one  direction,  by 
choosing  to  realize  itself  in  the  line  laid  down  by  some 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


3G7 


one  desire.  This  desire  is  then  the  strongest,  because 
the  whole  force  of  the  self  is  thrown  into  it.  This  de- 
sire, in  short,  is  nothing  but  the  self  having  formed  a 
definite  purpose.  It  is  now  a motive  or  spring  to  ac- 
tion ; it  is  the  end  of  action.  The  action  is  only  the 
reaching  of  this  end,  the  execution  of  the  motive.  It 
gives  us  no  new  information  to  say  that  the  act  is  de- 
termined by  the  motive,  for  the  motive  is  the  act  which 
the  self  chooses  to  perform. 

Motive  and  Ideal. — It  is  only  necessary  to  notice  in 
addition  that  the  motive  to  action,  the  end  of  action,  is 
always  ideal.  It  makes  no  diiference  how  apparently 
material  it  is.  Suppose  it  be  a desire  for  food.  The 
food,  it  is  true,  may  already  exist ; but  it  is  not  the  ex- 
istence which  is  desired.  What  is  desired  is  the  eating 
of  food,  and  this  does  not  exist  as  matter  of  fact,  but 
only  in  idea,  or  ideally.  We  never  choose  what  ex- 
ists already  as  matter  of  fact  for  us ; we  only  choose 
that  which  has  no  objective  being  for  ns.  Choice,  in 
fact,  is  the  declaration  of  self  that  a certain  ideal  shall 
be  realized.  The  motive  is  another  word  for  the  ideal. 
The  motive  to  getting  food  is  the  idea  of  satisfying 
one’s  self  in  the  food.  Since  the  object  of  desire  is  al- 
ways the  self  in  a certain  state  or  act,  it  may  be  said 
that  choice  is  the  declaration  by  self  that  a certain  ideal 
of  self  shall  be  realized. 

Choice  and  the  Intellectual  Processes. — It  will  be 
seen  that  the  act  of  choice  brings  explicitly  into  con- 
sciousness what  is  involved  in  all  intellectual  acts. 
There  is  possible  no  knowledge  wfithout  attention. 
Attention  involves  the  discrimination  of  sensations 
from  each  other,  and  the  identification  of  some  one 
group  of  these  sensations  with  self — in  short,  an  act 


368 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  choice.  Furthermore,  knowledge,  as  will,  works 
towards  an  end,  which  is  ideal,  and  has  to  select  and 
arrange  means  for  reaching  this  end.  The  process  of 
knowledge  is  a process  of  volition.  In  studying  knowl- 
edge, we  simply  neglect  the  process  in  behalf  of  the 
product.  Knowledge  was  finally  seen  (page  153)  to 
mean  the  realization  of  an  ideal  self ; in  studying  voli- 
tion we  see  whence  this  ideal  comes,  that  it  is  the  ob- 
jectification of  self  by  self,  and  whence  come  the  means 
by  which  the  end  is  readied,  the  ideal  accomplished. 

4.  Realization  of  the  Motive. — "We  have  now  stud- 
ied the  method  by  which  an  impulse,  when  combined 
with  the  idea  of  a self  satisfied  through  this  impulse, 
gives  rise  to  desire ; and  have  seen  that  this  desire  when 
identified  with  the  self  becomes  a motive  or  end  of  ac- 
tion. But  this  motive  is  ideal;  it  exists  only  in  idea. 
It  is  something  that  should  or  ought  to  be,  not  that  ac- 
tually is.  We  have  now  to  notice  briefly  the  process 
by  which  the  end  is  attained,  the  motive  realized. 

Dissatisfaction. — The  first  element  involved  is  the 
pain  which  arises  from  a feeling  of  the  difference  be- 
tween the  actual  state  of  self  and  that  ideal  state  which 
is  the  motive  to  action.  The  self  has  identified  itself 
in  choice  with  a certain  mode  of  being  or  action.  Yet 
this  mode  with  which  it  feels  itself  identified  is  not 
actual.  The  self  is  not  that  which  it  has  said  it  is ; it 
involves  a contradiction  in  itself,  and  the  feeling  of  this 
disparity  is  necessarily  one  of  pain.  This  feeling  of 
pain,  or  dissatisfaction  with  what  is,  serves  as  a stimu- 
lus to  go  beyond  that  which  is  actual  and  realize  the 
end.  No  matter  how  strongly  a certain  thing  is  de- 
sired, nor  how  firmly  it  has  been  chosen,  unless  the 
contemplation  of  the  choice  awakens  a feeling  of  dis- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


369 


satisfaction  with  what  actually  is,  no  volition  will  ever 
result.  The  ideal  will  remain  existing  in  idea  only. 
As  a representation  held  before  the  mind,  it  has  no 
moving  power.  It  is  a motive  to  action , blit  not  a 
motor  force  of  action. 

Action  of  Impulses. — The  pain  thus  awakened  serves 
as  stimulus  to  cancel  the  contradiction  in  the  self  be- 
tween its  actual  and  its  represented  state,  and  thus  to 
experience  real  satisfaction.  Actually  to  do  this,  to 
realize  the  chosen  end,  impulses  must  be  called  in.  It 
should  not  be  forgotten  that  our  mode  of  exposition  is 
necessarily  one  of  abstraction,  in  which  we  isolate  one 
factor  after  another.  In  isolating  the  factors  of  choice, 
motive,  etc.,  we  have  neglected  that  from  which  we  orig- 
inally started,  impulse.  We  must  now  return  to  this, 
for  it  is  the  impulsive  character  of  that  which  has  been 
desired  and  chosen  that  insures  its  actual  realization. 
The  end  can  be  brought  about  only  by  surrendering  it 
to  the  realm  of  the  impulses,  which  possess  the  neces- 
sary outgoing  force.  More  properly,  we  reach  an  end 
by  allowing  the  impulsive  force  of  the  desire  which 
was  checked  during  the  process  of  deliberation  to  ex- 
press itself  through  the  act  of  choice.  It  is  always  a 
physical  impulse  of  some  sort  or  other  which  furnishes 
the  force  which  realizes  the  end,  thus  changing  the  mo- 
tive into  a deed. 

Action  of  Intellect. — But  the  impulses  will  not  reach 
the  end  working  blindly.  They  must  be  directed  along 
certain  channels  by  the  intellect.  The  mind,  in  other 
words,  must  not  only  have  an  end  before  it,  must  not 
only  have  the  sensuous  impulse  with  which  to  reach 
this  end,  but  must  also  have  a conception  of  the  means 
to  the  end,  the  paths  which  the  impulse  must  follow. 

16* 


370 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


These  means,  however,  are  not  intrinsically  distinct 
from  the  end.  They  are  only  proximate  ends ; they 
are  the  end  analyzed  into  its  constituent  factors.  For 
example,  the  end  of  volition  is  the  construction  of  a 
house.  The  means  are  the  plans,  the  brick  and  mor- 
tar, the  arrangement  of  these  by  the  workmen,  etc.  It 
is  evident  that  the  end  is  not  something  intrinsically 
different  from  the  means ; it  is  the  meaus  taken  as  a 
harmoniously  manifested  whole.  The  means,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  something  more  than  precedents  to  an 
end.  The  first  means,  the  plans,  are  only  the  end  in 
its  simplest,  most  immediate  form,  and  the  next  means 
are  an  expansion  of  this,  while  the  final  means  are  iden- 
tical with  the  end.  When  we  look  at  the  act  as  a real- 
ized whole,  we  call  it  end ; when  we  look  at  it  in  pro- 
cess of  realization,  partially  made  out,  we  call  it  means. 
But  the  action  of  the  intellect  is  requisite  to  analyze 
the  end,  the  whole,  into  its  means,  the  component  fac- 
tors. 

The  System  of  Ends. — It  is  evident,  from  what  has 
been  said,  that  ultimately  there  can  be  only  one  end  to 
human  action.  All  other  ends  are  proximate  ends; 
absolutely  they  are  means,  though  also,  relatively,  ends 
when  looked  at  in  their  connection  with  other  acts. 
The  house  has  its  end  in  sheltering  the  family,  in  man- 
ifesting artistic  taste,  etc.  The  sheltering  of  the  fam- 
ily has  still  another  end,  the  preservation  and  develop- 
ment of  life,  individual  and  social.  Each  end  is  refer- 
able to  a higher  end,  which,  stated  in  most  general 
form,  is  self-realization.  All  acts  are  means  to  self  for 
its  own  realization  ; yet  it  must  be  remembered  that 
this  self-realization  is  not  a last  term  over  and  beyond 
the  means,  but  is  only  the  organized  harmonious  sys- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


371 


tem  of  the  means.  It  is  the  means  taken  in  their 
wholeness. 

Desire , Choice,  and  the  Self  . — We  arrive  at  this  same 
result  when  we  consider  the  nature  of  desire  and  of 
choice.  What  is  desired  is  always  the  self  in  some  act 
or  state.  Choice  is  only  the  explicit  identification  of  this 
act  or  state  with  the  self.  The  end  of  every  desire  and 
choice,  in  other  words,  is  the  self.  The  self  constitutes 
the  one  end  of  every  volition.  Yet  what  is  desired  is 
not  the  self  in  general ; it  is  some  specific  self,  the  self 
doing  or  experiencing  this  or  that.  The  self,  in  other 
words,  has  a content.  It  cannot  be  realized  by  some 
one  act ; it  can  be  realized  only  by  realizing  every  pos- 
sible legitimate  desire;  that  is,  every  desire  whose  real- 
ization does  not  preclude  the  realization  of  some  other. 
We  realize  the  self  only  by  satisfying  it  in  the  infinite 
variety  of  concrete  ways.  These  are  means,  because 
they  are  partial  manifestations  ; the  self  is  the  end,  be- 
cause it  is  the  organic  unity  of  these  various  aspects  of 
self-realization. 

The  Goal  of  Will. — It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  will 
can  find  its  goal  only  in  the  completely  realized  self. 
It  can  find  its  goal,  in  other  words,  only  in  itself.  Till 
the  will  is  completely  real,  that  is,  until  the  whole  self 
has  become  objective  and  universal,  will  must  have  an 
end  towards  which  it  cannot  cease  striving.  It  can  find 
its  goal  only  when  the  actual  and  the  ideal  self  are  at 
one.  Till  this  point  is  reached  there  is  a dualism  in 
the  self ; always  a conflict.  The  will  is  in  itself  uni- 
versal, and  this  presence  of  the  universal  element  must 
prevent  the  self  resting  in  any  realized  attainment.  It 
must  form  the  spring  to  renewed  action.  It  is  the  es- 
sence of  the  will  to  objectify  or  realize  itself.  It  al- 


372 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ways  holds  np  its  objective  or  real  self,  therefore,  as 
the  end  of  all  action,  into  which  the  given  self  must 
be  transformed. 

Form  and  Content  of  Will. — This  real  self,  which 
the  will  by  its  very  nature,  as  self-objectifying,  bolds 
before  itself,  is  originally  a bare  form,  an  empty  ideal 
without  content.  We  only  know  that  it  is,  and  that 
it  is  the  real.  What  it  is,  what  are  the  various  forms 
which  reality  assumes,  this  we  do  not  know.  But  this 
empty  form  is  constantly  assuming  to  itself  a filling; 
as  realized  it  gets  a content.  Through  this  content  we 
know  what  the  true  self  is,  as  well  as  that  it  is.  It  is 
so  in  knowledge;  it  is  so  in  artistic  production;  it  is 
so  in  practical  action.  A man  feels  there  is  truth  and 
the  feeling  impels  him  to  its  discovery.  What  actually 
constitutes  truth  he  knows  only  as  he  finds  it.  A man 
feels  there  is  beauty  and  is  impelled  to  its  creation ; 
when  he  has  created,  the  idea  of  beauty  has  taken  unto 
itself  a definite  content.  A man  feels  there  is  some 
end  advantageous  for  him  or  obligatory  upon  him ; 
what  this  is  in  its  fullness  he  knows  only  as  he  grasps 
it  and  makes  it  real  for  himself.  The  will,  as  self-ob- 
jectifying, is  at  once  the  source  of  the  empty  form, 
which  is  the  moving  spring  to  realization,  and  of  the 
process  by  which  it  is  reached,  and  the  form  and  con- 
tent made  one. 

Stages  of  Realization. — Ultimately,  there  is  but  one 
end,  the  self ; all  other  ends  are  means.  But  there  are 
degrees  of  subordination.  In  our  treatment  of  will,  we 
shall  begin  with  the  lowest  group  of  ends,  that  which 
has  the  element  of  means  in  it  to  the  greatest  extent, 
and  work  upward.  We  begin,  then,  with  physical  vo- 
lition, control  of  the  body ; go  on  to  prudential  voli- 


DEVELOPMENT  OF  VOLITION. 


373 


tion,  control  of  purposes  for  an  end  recognized  to  be 
advantageous;  and  finally  treat  moral  volition,  or  the 
control  of  the  will  for  itself  as  the  absolutely  obliga- 
tory end.  It  alone  is  absolute  end.  Every  other  group 
is  also  means. 


Spencer  (op.  cit.),  vol.  i.,  pp.  495-504;  Sully,  “ Psychology,”  pp.  522-593; 
Perez,  “ First  Three  Years,”  pp.  99-109 ; Maudsley,  “ Physiology  of  Mind,” 
ch.  vii. ; Drobisch  (op.  cit.'),  § 99 ; Radestock  (op.  cit.),  pp.  49-62 ; George  (op. 
cit.),  pp.  552-571 ; Schneider,  “ Der  menschliche  Wille,”  pp.  260-359  ; Erd- 
mann (op.  cit.),  ch.  xvii.;  Wundt,  in  “ Philosophische  Studien,”  vol.  i.,  p.  337 
ff.,  “Zur  Lehre  vom  Willen,”  and  “Phys  Psy.”  vol.  ii.,  pp.  383-395.  For 
disorders  of  will,  see  Maudsley,  “ Body  and  Will,”  pt.  iii,,  and  Eibot,  “ Diseases 
of  Will.”  Particularly  upon  desire,  choice,  and  motive,  see  Bascom  (op.  cit.), 
pp.  300-316;  Sully,  “Psychology,”  pp.  626-646;  Murray  (op.  cit.),  pp.  398- 
405;  Bain,  “Emotions  and  Will,"  pp.  420-498;  Brown  (op.  cit.),  vol.  iii., 
pp.  324-473;  Volkmann  (op. c?7.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  397-437;  George  (op. cit.),  p.  548  ff. , 
Rosenkranz  (op.  cit.),  pp.  323-330 ; Ulrici  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  322-345 ; Dro- 
bisch (op.  cit.),  pp.  220-239;  Tappan,  “The  Will,”  pp.  331-351;  Laurie, 
“Ethica,”  pp.  37-4S  ; Sidgwick,  “ Method  of  Ethics,”  pp.  34-47 ; Beneke, 
“Erziehungslchre,”  pp.  219-281. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


Problem. — We  need,  in  adult  life,  only  intend  a cer- 
tain  movement  to  have  that  movement  follow.  The 
will  to  walk  is  followed  by  the  act  of  locomotion  ; the  de- 
sire of  uttering  some  word  leads  to  just  that  word  being 
pronounced.  We  take  a pen  in  hand,  and  express  our 
thoughts  by  a series  of  muscular  movements  directed 
to  that  end.  We  will  to  move  the  head,  and  do  it;  or 
we  select  the  motion  of  some  one  finger.  The  prob- 
lem which  we  have  to  solve  is  how  the  idea  of  a cer- 
tain movement  occasions  that  exceedingly  complex  ad- 
justment of  muscles  which  produces  the  movement. 
We  have  to  see  how  it  is  that  our  movements  cease  to 
be  purely  impulsive  and  become  directed  to  reaching 
an  end  which  is  present  in  idea  to  the  mind — how  they 
become  voluntary. 

Basis  of  Solution. — We  have,  of  course,  prior  to  ex- 
perience no  knowledge  of  the  relations  of  means  to  the 
end  ; we  have  no  idea  of  what  movements  must  be  per- 
formed in  order  to  do  a given  act,  say  walk.  Nor  do 
we,  after  experience,  have  any  direct  knowledge  of  the 
relations  of  means  to  end.  That  is  to  say,  all  our 
movements  are  performed  by  certain  arrangements  of 
muscles,  but  of  these  muscles  and  of  the  mode  in  which 
they  act  we  know  nothing.  Even  if  we  study  anatomy 
and  learn  the  arrangement  and  action  of  our  muscular 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


375 


system,  this  gives  us  no  aid  in  performing  any  definite 
movement.  It  does  not  help  us,  in  playing  the  piano, 
to  know  just  what  muscles  are  brought  into  requisition 
for  the  performance  of  the  act.  We  fix  our  attention 
upon  the  end  to  be  reached,  and  let  the  direct  means, 
the  muscles,  take  care  of  themselves.  The  basis  of  so- 
lution, therefore,  cannot  be  found  in  any  knowledge  of 
the  muscular  system.  It  is  found,  however,  in  the  sen- 
sations which  accompany  all  muscular  action. 

Nature  of  Solution.  — Every  change  of  every  vol- 
untary muscle  is  accompanied  by  a sensation,  and  this, 
of  course,  whether  the  change  occurs  impulsively  or 
through  conscious  volition.  The  result  is  that  this  sen- 
sation becomes  to  us  a sign  or  symbol  of  the  movement. 
The  will,  it  must  be  remembered,  does  not  have  to  orig- 
inate the  muscular  impulse ; it  has  only  to  direct  the 
outgoing  force  in  such  a way  that  it  shall  subserve  a 
required  end.  How  the  muscular  sensations  constant- 
ly report  to  consciousness  the  state  of  the  body,  and  of 
the  muscles  which  make  it  up.  Prior  to  experience  we 
do  not  know  what  these  reports  signify ; we  do  not 
know,  in  short,  what  change  corresponds  to  a given  sen- 
sation. Our  experience  consists  in  learning  to  interpret 
these  sensations ; in  seeing  what  acts  they  stand  for. 
Having  learned  this,  knowing  that  a certain  sensation 
means  a certain  movement,  we  control  the  movements 
by  controlling  the  sensations.  We  learn,  in  other  words, 
not  only  the  meaning  of  a sensation,  but  the  connec- 
tion of  the  various  sensations,  and  in  what  order  sen- 
sations must  be  arranged  in  order  to  occasion  other  sen- 
sations. 

Process  of  Physical  Control. — In  studying,  accord- 
ingly, the  process  by  which  we  learn  to  govern  our 


376 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


bodily  impulses,  and  direct  them  to  an  end,  we  have  to 
study  the  process  by  which  we  learn  how  to  interpret 
any  muscular  sensation,  see  what  movement  it  stands 
for ; and  the  process  by  which  we  are  enabled  to  con- 
nect these  sensations  together,  so  that  a group  of  sen- 
sations comes  to  mean  a certain  complex  act,  made 
up  either  of  simultaneous  or  of  successive  movements. 
We  not  only  learn  the  meaning  of  each  isolated  sensa- 
tion, but  we  learn  how  it  must  be  combined  with  oth- 
ers to  reach  a certain  result.  The  process  is  similar  to 
that  of  attention,  where  we  select  and  combine  certain 
sensations,  and  neglect  others,  in  order  to  reach  the  in- 
tellectual end  we  have  in  view;  except  that  in  the 
present  case  the  sensations  are  selected  and  connected 
with  reference  to  a practical  end  rather  than  to  an  in- 
tellectual. The  end  in  one  case  is  producing  some  ex- 
ternal change;  in  the  other,  of  some  internal  change, 
some  new  combination  of  ideas;  but  the  process  is 
identical  in  both.  Psychologically,  the  end  is  identical 
in  each,  for  we  know  nothing  of  the  muscular  change 
to  be  effected,  but  only  of  the  sensations  which  accom- 
pany this  change. 

Mode  of  Treatment. — We  shall  take  up,  first,  the 
process  by  wdiich  we  come  to  know  what  act  each 
muscular  sensation  represents — the  process  by  which 
muscular  sensation  becomes  definite , and  movements 
specific  ; and,  secondly,  the  process  by  which  muscular 
sensation  becomes  more  comprehensive , and  movements 
harmonized  with  each  other — the  process  by  which  we 
connect  muscular  sensations  with  each  other,  either 
simultaneously  or  successively. 

I.  The  Differentiation  of  Motor  Impulses.  — Origi- 
nally all  motor  impulses,  except  spcli  as  are,  by  instinct 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


377 


or  through  heredity,  adjusted  to  some  specific  though 
unconscious  end,  are  vague,  undefined,  and  diffused 
through  the  whole  system.  The  motor  impulse  for 
food  is  adjusted  in  the  infant  to  just  the  acts  which 
are  necessary  to  get  food,  those  of  sucking,  and  so 
with  some  other  impulses  which  we  have  studied.  But 
the  vast  majority  of  muscular  impulses  have  no  such 
definite  adjustment."  They  originally  spend  themselves 
in  spreading  through  the  whole  system,  according  to 
their  intensity,  accomplishing  no  definite  result.  There 
is  an  impulse  to  locomotion,  but  this  impulse  does  not 
instinctively  seek  the  precise  channels  which  will  ac- 
complish the  end.  It  loses  itself  in  undefined  move- 
ments of  the  whole  body ; so  also  do  the  impulses  to 
speak,  to  write,  etc.  We  have  first  to  study  the  proc- 
ess by  which  the  impulse  becomes  definite  or  limited 
to  producing  a certain  number  of  movements. 

Process  of  Experimenting. — This  is  by  a process  of 
experimentation.  It  may  be  illustrated  by  the  way  in 
which  a child  learns  to  reach  for  and  handle  an  object. 
This  has  its  basis,  as  already  explained,  in  a reflex  im- 
pulse of  grasping.  The  child  sees,  we  will  say,  a bright- 
ly colored  ball.  This  awakens  in  him  a purely  instinc- 
tive impulse  to  grasp  it.  He  may  fail,  because  it  is 
out  of  his  reach.  From  this  failure,  however,  he  learns 
something.  He  learns  that  a certain  visual  sensation  is 
connected  with  a distance  of  an  object  longer  than  the 
reach  of  his  arm.  By  repeated  failure,  there  is  set  up 
a distinct  association  in  his  consciousness  of  certain 
visual  sensations  with  the  muscular  feelings  due  to  the 
movements  of  his  arm  and  body.  He  may,  however, 
grasp  the  object.  If  so,  there  is  formed  an  association 
between  this  distance  and  the  muscular  sensation  ac- 


378 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


companying  the  successful  movement.  This  associa- 
tion becomes  solidified  by  repeated  experience.  The 
process  of  learning  to  reach  the  object  consists,  accord- 
ingly, in  forming  the  association  between  the  visual 
sensation,  which  means  distance,  and  the  muscular  sen- 
sation, which  means  movement. 

Further  Illustration. — Imagine  a child  learning  to 
talk.  Our  starting-point  here  is  the  reflex  impulse  to 
utter  sounds  ; the  problem  is  to  control  these  impulses 
in  such  a way  that  intelligent  articulate  speech  shall 
result.  The  child  hears  a certain  sound  applied  to  ob- 
jects. His  business  now  is  to  make  some  one  of  his 
reflex  sounds — the  raw  material  which  he  has  in  stock 
— correspond  to  the  sound — reproduce  it.  His  attempts 
are  partial  failures,  but  each  of  these  failures  allows  him 
to  eliminate  certain  sounds.  His  feeling  of  non-success 
leads  him  successively  to  discard  many  of  them  ; while 
each  attempt  that  is  successful  forms  an  association  be- 
tween the  auditory  sensation  which  is  the  sign  of  an 
object,  and  the  muscular  sensation  which  is  the  sign  of 
that  movement  which  occasions  this  sound.  He  learns 
to  interpret  auditory  sensations  in  terms  of  muscular, 
and  vice  versa.  This  process  of  experimentation  has 
three  results : 

1.  It  Leaves  in  Consciousness  a Distinct  Idea  of  the 
End  to  he  Reached. — We  must  not  conceive  the  problem 
as  if  the  child  has  originally  a distinct  notion  in  con- 
sciousness of  the  end  he  lias  to  reach,  and  needs  only 
to  learn  the  means  of  reaching  it.  The  child  has  only 
a very  indefinite  idea  of  what  constitutes  the  act  of 
reaching  an  object  or  of  pronouncing  a word  before  he 
has  actually  accomplished  it.  It  is  only  when  he  has 
reached  the  end  that  he  knows  what  the  end  is.  He  be- 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


379 


gins  with  a vague  consciousness  that  there  is  an  end  to 
be  reached,  and  the  result  of  his  experimentation  is 
that  he  knows  vjhat  this  end  is.  His  vague  impulse 
has  now  taken  definite  form  in  the  distinct  idea  of 
some  act  which  he  performs. 

2.  The  Movement  becomes  Localized  just  in  the 
degree  in  which  the  idea  of  the  act  becomes  definite. 
The  original  movement  is  vague  and  diffuse,  like  the 
idea  of  it.  A child  in  learning  to  walk  moves  his 
whole  body.  In  learning  to  write  the  motor  impulse 
is  expended  through  the  arm,  the  head,  the  mouth,  and 
tongue ; probably  more  or  less  through  the  whole  body. 
Similarly  with  learning  to  play  the  piano.  But  the  re- 
sult of  his  experimentation  is  that  the  motor  impulse 
becomes  differentiated.  It  does  not  seek  an  outlet  in- 
differently through  any  and  every  muscle  of  the  body, 
but  is  confined  to  certain  channels.  The  movement,  in 
short,  becomes  specialized. 

3.  Less  and  less  Stimulus  is  Required  in  Order  to  Set 
xijo  the  Movement. — This  follows  directly  from  the  re- 
striction of  the  impulse  to  a definite  channel.  So  long 
as  the  force  is  expended  in  moving  the  whole  body,  a 
large  amount  is  required,  most  of  which  is  wasted  ; 
only  that  being  economically  used  which  is  actually 
employed  in  that  one  part  of  the  movement  which  is 
necessary  to  the  result.  With  every  localization  of 
movement  comes  a saving  of  the  stimulus,  until,  when 
just  the  proper  channel  alone  is  employed,  one  hun- 
dredth of  the  original  force  may  suffice.  The  result  is 
that  a less  violent  and  more  internal  stimulus  serves  to 
occasion  the  action. 

Degrees  of  Stimulus  Required. — The  original  stimu- 
lus is,  in  all  probability,  the  demand  of  the  whole  or- 


380 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


ganism  for  food.  Nothing  less  than  a disturbance  of 
the  equilibrium  of  the  entire  organism  suffices.  In  the 
next  stage  a sudden  and  violent  affection  of  one  of  the 
senses  serves — a sudden  pain,  a bright  light.  Then,  as 
the  force  becomes  more  and  more  utilized  as  it  is  prop- 
erly directed,  the  performance  of  an  act  by  another  per- 
son occasions  enough  disturbance  to  impel  us  to  it.  As 
the  process  advances  it  is  no  longer  necessary  to  have  the 
action  presented  to  us  through  our  sensations  as  a stim- 
ulus ; the  request  or  suggestion  of  another  suffices. 
Then  comes  the  last  and  final  development,  when  an 
idea  of  the  action  originating  from  within  serves  to 
occasion  the  act.  A stimulus  which  is  wholly  ideal  is 
all  that  is  necessary  to  occasion  the  discharge  of  super- 
fluous nervous  force  into  just  its  proper  channel.  The 
mind  has  no  longer  to  oversee  the  whole  expenditure 
of  the  energy ; it  has,  as  it  were,  only  to  open  the 
valve  which  liberates  the  force,  and  by  its  own  self-ex- 
ecuting mechanism  directs  it.  An  idea  of  the  end  is 
stimulus  enough  to  open  the  valve. 

II.  The  Combination  of  Motor  Impulses. — All  phys- 
ical control  involves  co-ordination  and  mutual  connec- 
tion of  the  motor  impulses.  In  order  to  walk  it  is  not 
enough  that  there  should  be  a definite  idea  of  the  end, 
and  the  localization  of  each  movement  necessary.  There 
must  also  be  an  idea  of  the  successive  and  simultaneous 
steps  of  the  process ; the  various  movements  must  be 
harmonized.  This  comes  about  also  through  a process 
of  experimentation,  by  which  the  child  learns  not  only 
to  associate  some  muscular  sensation  with  a given  tact- 
ual or  visual  sensation,  but  also  learns  to  associate  vari- 
ous muscular  sensations  with  each  other.  Suppose  the 
attempt  is  to  utter  a certain  sentence.  In  addition  to 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


381 


the  process  just  described,  there  will  be  an  association 
of  all  the  muscular  sensations  accompanying  the  suc- 
cessive sounds.  In  playing  the  piano  there  will  be 
also  simultaneous  associations  added.  The  principles 
of  successive  and  simultaneous  association,  in  short,  are 
sufficient  to  account  for  the  various  phenomena  of  the 
combination  of  motor  impulses.  The  associated  sen- 
sations become  signs  of  the  associated  movements. 
Three  effects  of  this  process  of  association  may  be  no- 
ticed. 

1.  The  Idea  of  the  Movement  to  he  Performed  be- 
comes more  Complex. — The  infant  begins  with  a very 
simple  and  immediate  idea.  His  first  voluntary  efforts 
are  limited  to  movements  containing  very  few  elements, 
and  the  end  of  which  is  directly  present.  The  con- 
sciousness of  an  end  which  is  remote,  and  which  can 
be  reached  only  by  the  systematic  regulation  of  a large 
number  of  acts,  cannot  be  formed  until  the  combina- 
tion of  motor  impulses  has  realized  some  such  end. 
Then  there  exists  in  consciousness  the  idea  of  an  end 
comparatively  remote  in  time,  and  comprehending 
many  minor  acts.  The  man  lives  in  the  future,  and 
with  the  consciousness  that  his  present  acts  do  not  ex- 
haust themselves  in  themselves,  but  have  reference  to 
this  future.  Take,  for  example,  the  consciousness  of 
one  learning  a trade.  Tie  must  put  before  himself  the 
idea  of  an  accomplishment  which  cannot  be  reached 
for  years,  and  must  recognize  the  subordinate  relation 
which  his  movements  through  these  years  bear  to  the 
end  willed.  The  idea  in  consciousness  becomes  ever 
more  complex  and  further  projected  in  time. 

2.  Along  with  this  goes  an  Extension  in  the  Range 
of  Movements.  The  original  movements  are  isolated. 


382 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Each  has  no  meaning  beyond  itself.  With  growth  of 
consciousness  of  a comprehensive  end,  this  isolation 
ceases.  Each  is  considered  only  in  its  reference  to 
others  with  which  it  is  combined  while  all  are  subor- 
dinated to  a common  end.  In  an  adult  of  pretty  com- 
plete volitional  control,  almost  all  movements,  whether 
of  recreation  or  of  business,  are  connected  together 
through  their  reference  to  some  unity,  some  final  pur- 
pose which  the  man  intends.  There  is  involved  first 
a process  of  inhibition , by  which  all  movements  not 
calculated  to  reach  the  end  are  suppressed  ; second,  co- 
ordinationi,  by  which  the  remaining  movements  are 
brought  into  harmonious  relations  with  each  other ; 
and,  third,  accommodation , by  which  they  are  all  ad- 
justed to  the  end  present  in  consciousness. 

3.  There  is  also  a Deepening  of  the  Control. — The 
movements  become  organized,  as  it  were,  into  the  very 
structure  of  the  body.  The  body  becomes  a tool  more 
and  more  under  command,  a mechanism  better  fit- 
ted for  its  end,  and  also  more  responsive  to  the  touch. 
Isolated  acts  become  capacity  for  action.  That  which 
has  been  laboriously  acquired  becomes  spontaneous  func- 
tion. There  result  a number  of  abilities  to  act  in 
this  way  or  that — abilities  to  walk,  to  talk,  to  read,  to 
write,  to  labor  at  the  trade.  Acquisition  becomes  func- 
tion ; control  becomes  skill.  These  capacities  are  also 
tendencies.  They  constitute  not  only  a machine  capa- 
ble of  action  in  a given  way  at  direction,  but  an  auto- 
matic machine,  which,  when  consciousness  does  not  put 
an  end  before  it,  acts  for  itself.  It  is  this  deepening 
of  control  which  constitutes  what  we  call  habit. 

The  Nature  of  the  Will. — In  studying  this  process 
of  physical  control,  we  have  been  studying  in  a con- 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


383 


Crete  way,  the  nature  of  the  will  itself.  The  will  is 
sometimes  spoken  of  as  if  it  were  a force  outside  of 
the  rest  of  our  nature:  sometimes  a legislative  force, 
laying  down  rules  for  the  feelings  and  impulses  ; some- 
times an  executive  force,  carrying  out  the  decrees  of 
the  intellect  upon  the  impulses.  Then  the  will  is 
spoken  of  as  directing  the  body  to  do  this  or  that,  and 
there  arises  the  insoluble  problem  of  how  a spiritual 
force  like  the  will  can  operate  upon  a material  substance 
like  the  body.  But  these  views  are  based  upon  an  in- 
adequate conception  of  volition.  As  we  have  seen,  it 
is  not  the  will  standing  outside  of  the  body,  which  di- 
rects the  body  to  perform  some  movement.  The  per- 
formance of  the  action  is  the  existence  of  the  will. 
The  will  is  the  concrete  unity  of  feeling  and  intellect ; 
the  feeling  carries  us  to  a certain  result,  the  intellect 
takes  cognizance  of  this  result,  the  end,  and  of  the 
means  to  it,  and  now  places  this  as  a conscious  motive 
or  end  in  the  feelings,  and  controls  them  thereby.  The 
whole  process  is  will.  The  intellectual  operation  of 
representing  the  means  and  end,  and  the  feeling  which 
impels  us  to  the  end,  have  no  separate  existence. 

Illustrations. — Let  the  process,  for  example,  be  that 
of  learning  to  'walk.  Where  does  the  will  come  in  ? 
In  the  first  place,  we  have  the  more  or  less  unconscious 
operation  of  feeling ; the  craving  of  the  muscular  sys- 
tem for  exercise,  and  the  tendency  of  this  feeling  to 
impel  itself  along  certain  lines  and  produce  locomo- 
tion. That  this  is  the  end  in  view  and  how  it  is  to  be 
reached,  there  is,  of  course,  no  knowledge.  But  the 
impulses  bring  about  certain  actions.  By  the  child’s 
instinct  and  more  especially  by  the  aid  of  other  wills, 
some  of  these  are  seen  to  be  useless,  without  an  end, 


384 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


and  are  inhibited ; others  are  successful.  From  those 
which  are  successful,  the  idea  of  an  end  is  consciously 
framed  by  the  intellect;  there  now  exists  the  idea  of 
walking  and  of  the  means  which  constitute  it.  This 
end,  however,  is  simply  the  due  localization  and  com- 
bination of  the  various  motor  impulses  by  which  it  is 
reached.  The  impulses  are  now  controlled.  We  may 
say,  if  we  wish,  that  they  are  controlled  by  the  will ; 
more  properly,  however,  their  control,  the  union  of  im- 
pulse and  intellect,  feeling  and  end,  is  the  will.  The 
process  is  the  same,  if  one  takes  the  example  of  the  ac- 
quisition of  a foreign  language  by  an  adult,  except  that 
the  adult  does  not  have  to  rely  so  much  on  the  uncon- 
scious experimentation  of  his  feelings  as  they  work  to 
the  end,  which  they  finally  hit  upon  ; for  through  the 
greater  development  of  his  intellect  he  appropriates 
the  results  of  the  acquirements  of  others.  Conscious 
imitation,  in  short,  plays  a larger  part  than  unconscious 
feeling  towards  an  end.  The  volitional  element  is  the 
same.  It  is  the  co-ordination  of  impulses  for  an  end 
recognized  by  the  intellect. 

Body  and  Will. — The  will  is  not,  therefore,  a force 
outside  of  the  body.  The  will  (so  far  as  physical  con- 
trol is  concerned)  is  the  body,  so  far  as  this  is  organ- 
ized so  as  to  he  capable  of  performing  certain  spe- 
cific and  complex  acts.  The  will  has  given  itself  con- 
crete existence  by  constituting  the  body  its  mechan- 
ism, its  expression.  In  other  words,  the  defining  and 
combining  of  motor  impulses  so  that  they  bear  a har- 
monious relation  to  each  other  is  the  existence  of  the 
will,  so  far  as  physical  control  is  concerned.  The  end 
is  only  another  name  for  the  harmony.  The  will  is 
not  formal,  but  has  a real  content. 


PHYSICAL  CONTROL. 


385 


Twofold  Nature  of  Will. — The  will,  therefore,  gets 
concrete  existence  only  so  far  as  the  soul,  through  its 
experimentation  with  the  motor  impulses,  reaches  an 
end,  which  is  the  intelligent,  harmonious  relation  of 
these  impulses.  But  why  do  the  feelings  tend  to  pro- 
ject themselves  towards  an  end  ? Why  does  the  self 
experiment  with  the  feelings?  Why  does  it  inhibit 
or  reject  some  as  useless  ? Why  does  it  employ  others  ? 
The  answer  to  these  latter  questions  is  because  it  feels 
pain  in  the  one  and  satisfaction  in  the  other.  But  why 
should  it?  These  questions  lead  us  to  recognize  that 
the  soul  through  its  impulses  is  already  feeling  towards 
an  end,  and  that  it  is  guided  constantly  by  the  feeling 
which  its  acts  bear  to  this  end  as  shown  by  the  ac- 
companying satisfaction  and  dissatisfaction.  What  the 
actual  reaching  of  this  end  does,  is  to  make  the  will 
articulate,  body  it  forth  in  definite  shape. 

We  must  recognize,  therefore,  that  the  will  has  a 
twofold  nature.  On  the  one  hand,  it  sets  up  (originally, 
no  doubt,  in  the  form  of  feeling)  an  end,  and  guides 
the  impulses  towards  this  end ; as  such  it  is  the  source, 
the  spring  to  all  realization  of  self.  On  the  other  hand, 
will  is  the  actual  reaching  of  this  end  ; it  is  the  definite 
harmonizing  of  the  impulses.  As  such  it  is  realized 
self.  In  the  latter  form  only  is  the  will  a definite,  con- 
crete existence.  Yet  the  unconscious  projection  of  the 
self  in  the  form  of  impulses,  and  the  sequent  experi- 
mentation with  them  till  they  are  harmonized,  are  the 
sources  of  this  definite  realization  of  will.  Will  is  the 
cause  of  itself,  in  other  words.  The  process  of  our 
actual  life  is  simply  that  by  which  will  gives  itself 
definite  manifestation,  bodies  itself  forth  in  objective 
form.  Just  what  will  is,  we  can  tell  only  so  far  as  it 
17 


386 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


has  thus  realized  itself ; but  will  is  never  exhausted  in 
any  such  realization,  and  its  continued  action  in  the 
form  of  impulse  towards  an  end  as  yet  not  formulated 
is  the  source  of  all  change,  all  growth  in  psychical  life. 

Dependence  of  Will.  — In  addition,  it  needs  to  be 
noted  that  the  possibility  of  physical  control  depends 
upon  the  connection  of  the  individual  will  with  other 
wills.  In  its  lower  forms,  as  locomotion,  it  is  depend- 
ent upon  these  other  wills  for  guidance,  encourage- 
ment, and  approval,  as  well  as  largely  for  models  of 
imitation.  Were  the  infant  left  to  himself,  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  either  he  would  never  accomplish  the  act, 
or  that  it  would  take  a much  longer  time,  and  be  very 
clumsily  done.  In  the  higher  forms,  as  talking,  writ- 
ing, etc.,  there  is  not  only  dependence  of  the  foregoing 
kind,  but  of  the  material  also,  for  the  content  of  the  will 
is  due  to  other  wills.  In  learning  to  speak,  the  individ- 
ual merely  appropriates  the  product  of  the  wills  of  the 
community  in  which  he  lives.  In  learning  to  walk, 
indeed,  he  does  not  create.  He  merely  reproduces  by 
his  will,  under  the  direction  of  the  wills  of  others,  cer- 
tain physical  relations.  In  learning  to  speak,  he  re- 
produces under  the  direction  of  other  wills,  and  repro- 
duces that  which  owes  its  existence  to  these  wills ; he 
reproduces  social  relations  through  physical  processes. 

Carpenter  (op.  tit.),  pp.  209-218,  279-315,  376-386,  and  in  Contemporary 
Review,  vol.  xvii.,  p.  192  ff. ; Calderwood  (op.  tit.),  ch.  v. ; Lotze,  “ Elements 
of  Psychology,”  pp.  83-91 ; Lazarus  (op.  tit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  59-71 ; Ulrici  (op. 
tit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  301-321;  Schneider,  “Der  menschliche  Wiile,”  pp.  407-452; 
Steinthal  (op.  tit.),  pp.  263-289 ; Hoppe,  “ Das  Auswendiglernen.” 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PRUDENTIAL  CONTROL. 

Relation  to  Physical.  — Physical  control  forms  in  a 
twofold  way  the  basis  of  the  higher  developments  of 
will.  In  the  first  place,  the  body  is  the  mechanism  by 
which  all  changes  in  the  world  must  be  brought  about. 
Thinking  involves  the  use  of  speech  and  the  control  of 
the  brain  ; moral  purpose  involves  in  its  execution 
movements,  etc.  Physical  control  is  a necessary  pre- 
condition of  all  more  developed  forms.  Secondly  it 
develops  the  same  factors  of  will  that  are  involved 
in  the  complex  modes  of  control.  Regulation  of*mo- 
tor  impulses  so  that  they  conform  to  an  end  involves 
the  choice  of  an  end,  the  apt  selection  of  means,  fixed 
resolution,  and  determined  adherence  to  a course  of 
action.  All  the  elements  constituting  will  are  thus 
brought  into  play. 

Prudential  Control. — It  is  distinguished  from  phys- 
ical by  the  fact  that  the  co-ordination  and  regulation 
of  movements  is  now  only  a means,  not  an  end  in  it- 
self. It  includes  all  actions  in  which  the  impulses  are 
directed  towards  an  end  which  is  regarded  as  advanta- 
geous, or  away  from  an  end  which  is  considered  harm- 
ful. The  word  “ prudential ,”  therefore,  is  used  in  a 
very  wide  sense  to  express  all  actions  dictated  by  mo- 
tives of  anticipated  gain  or  loss.  It  is  further  distin- 
guished from  physical  control  by  the  fact  that  the 
latter  is  not  directed  by  any  conscious  representation 


388 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


of  future  benefit,  but  rather  by  instinctive  feeling; 
and  from  moral  control  by  the  fact  that  the  latter  oc- 
curs to  fulfil  obligation,  not  to  reap  advantage.  The 
same  act  may  illustrate  each  kind  of  control.  A child, 
for  example,  learning  a foreign  language  does  not  do 
it  with  any  motive  of  the  advantages  that  are  to  ac- 
crue to  him  from  it ; a youth  may  set  about  learning 
the  language  because  he  sees  it  is  necessary  to  his  busi- 
ness success ; furthermore,  if  the  business  success  is 
necessary  in  order  that  he  may  support  a dependent 
mother,  the  act  becomes  also  moral. 

Analysis  of  Prudential  Act. — The  various  factors 
of  an  act  of  the  prudential  class  may  be  shown  from 
the  example  just  given.  The  first  element  is  the  crea- 
tion and  development  of  the  desire,  of  the  want.  There 
must  be  produced  the  conscious  want  of  succeeding  in 
business.  This  is  something  over  and  above  any  sen- 
suous impulse ; it  arises  only  when  the  sensuous  im- 
pulses are  associated  with  wider  ranges  of  experience. 
We  have  to  study,  first,  the  process  by  which  the  de- 
sires for  whose  satisfaction  prudential  action  occurs  are 
developed.  This  desire  is  then  constituted  an  end  or 
motive  of  action,  and  those  means  are  selected  which 
are  best  fitted  to  reach  the  end.  It  involves,  second- 
137',  the  development  of  intelligent  selection  and  adap- 
tation of  means  to  result;  which  will  var}7,  thirdly,  ac- 
cording as  this  end  is  purely  practical,  is  intellectual, 
or  is  emotional. 

I.  Development  of  Desires. — As  already  said,  sensu- 
ous impulse,  as  for  food,  does  not  constitute  the  desire 
for  food.  Desire  involves  at  least  three  additional  ele- 
ments. In  the  first  place,  there  must  have  been  expe- 
rience of  something  which  satisfied  the  impulse.  The 


PRUDENTIAL  CONTROL. 


389 


impulse  must  have  become  associated  with  the  act 
in  which  it  resulted,  and  also  of  the  pleasure  which 
accompanied  this  act.  In  the  second  place,  there  must 
be  explicit  recognition  of  the  fact  that  the  impulse  is 
not  at  the  present  time  satisfied.  There  must  be  rec- 
ognition of  lack.  The  individual  must  feel  that  the 
act,  with  its  pleasure,  which  was  his  once  is  not  his 
now.  And,  in  the  third  place,  there  must  be  conscious 
recognition  that  this  experience  which  formerly  satis- 
fied the  impulse  will  do  so  again.  Desire  implies  rec- 
ognition of  present  non-satisfaction  ; remembrance  of 
past  satisfaction , and  anticipation  of  future  satisfac- 
tion through  a similar  experience.  The  development 
of  desire  will  be,  of  course,  merely  the  process  by 
which  these  three  elements  are  brought  into  existence. 

Illustration. — It  follows  that  eveiy  new  experience 
may  result  in  the  creation  of  a desire.  Every  expe- 
rience may  bring  about  such  measure  of  self-satisfac- 
tion as  will  cause  that  experience,  when  it  is  re-presented 
in  consciousness  and  compared  with  the  present  expe- 
rience, to  be  an  object  desired.  For  example,  a child 
performs  some  act,  say,  doing  an  errand,  which  is  re- 
warded with  money.  Money  is  now  an  object  of  de- 
sire. It  constitutes  a possible  motive  of  action,  as  it 
could  not  do  before  experience  of  it.  With  this  money 
he  purchases,  perhaps,  toys,  which  give  him  new  satis- 
faction, and  form  a new  object  of  desire.  These  toys 
he  may  share  with  his  playmates,  and  thus  gain  their 
approbation,  which  in  turn  affoi’ds  a new  source  of  de- 
sire. To  this  process  there  is  no  conceivable  end.  It 
is  also  evident  that  the  process  of  development  widens 
desires  and  renders  them  definite.  The  range  of  things 
wanted  is  constantly  enlarged;  the  idea  of  that  which 


390 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


is  wanted,  that  which  will  satisfy  need,  becomes  more 
precise  and  accurate. 

Imagination  and  Desire. — With  the  development  of 
imagination,  especially  of  constructive  imagination  as 
opposed  to  reproductive,  desire  somewhat  changes  its 
character.  All  desire,  as  requiring  anticipation  of  a 
future  state,  involves  imagination.  With  growth  of 
imagination  desire  gets  to  be  more  comprehensive  and 
more  distinct.  As  imagination  becomes  plastic,  shap- 
ing old  material  into  new  forms,  desire  is  no  longer 
limited  to  experiences  precisely  similar  to  those  already 
experienced.  Imagination  creates  ideals  towards  which 
desire  projects  itself.  It  constructs  conceptions  of 
honor,  of  wealth,  of  fame,  which  are  no  less  real  for 
desire  than  the  experiences  of  every-day  life. 

Imagination  not  only  extends  desire  to  ideal  embod- 
iments, but  it  determines  largely  the  channels  which 
desire  shall  follow.  Every  imagination  of  anything  is 
the  idea  of  it  as  real,  and  is,  in  so  far,  desire.  There 
is  no  surer  way  of  strengthening  desire  than  allowing 
the  imagination  to  dwell  upon  some  conception.  The 
idea  of  a thing  is  the  ^projection  of  the  mind  towards 
it.  So  the  objects,  the  kinds  of  objects,  upon  which 
imagination  dwells  decide  what  desires,  what  class  of 
desires,  are  of  most  importance  for  an  individual.  A 
merchant’s  desires  are  not  as  an  artist’s;  a scholar’s 
not  like  an  artisan’s ; and  the  difference  of  the  desires 
is  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  the  habitual  mental 
areas  upon  which  the  mind  dwells  are  so  different. 
The  close  relation  between  desire  and  imagination  is 
nowhere  better  illustrated  than  in  the  artist.  Here 
this  imagination,  the  ideal  bodying  forth  of  beautiful 
objects,  becomes  a desire  so  strong  for  the  actual  exist- 


PRUDENTIAL  CONTROL. 


391 


ence  of  these  objects  that  one  is  instinctively  led  to 
create  them.  The  relation  exists  no  less  in  the  mer- 
cantile and  practical  spheres.  The  man  who  lets  his 
thoughts  run  constantly  on  money  and  the  advantages 
to  be  gained  from  it  is  the  man  of  strongest  desire  for 
it.  So  far  is  it  from  being  true  that  the  man  of  imagi- 
nation and  the  man  of  action  are  opposed  that  it  should 
rather  be  said  that  only  the  man  of  vivid  and  close 
imagination  can  be  a man  of  action.  Dreamy  action 
is  the  result  of  dreamy,  that  is,  vague  and  scattering, 
imagination. 

II.  Choice  of  Ends  and  Means. — With  every  exten- 
sion of  experience  and  every  new  development  of  im- 
agination there  arises,  therefore,  a growth  of  desire  in 
distinctness  and  in  range  of  comprehensiveness.  All 
objects  and  all  ideals  become  saturated  with  that  close 
connection  with  the  experiences  of  the  self  that  con- 
stitutes them  desirable.  As  such  they  come  into  con- 
stant contact  and  conflict  with  each  other.  There  are 
all  degrees  of  relationship  existing  between  them. 
Some  are  directly  in  line  with  each  other  and  mutually 
strengthen  each  other,  as,  say,  desire  for  wealth  and 
for  social  recognition.  Others,  though  not  opposed  in 
themselves,  may  necessitate  choice  of  opposed  means, 
as  desire  for  increase  of  learning  and  for  social  enjoy- 
ment. Others  may  be  directly  incompatible  with  each 
other,  as  desires  for  the  approval  of  others  and  for  per- 
sonal self-indulgence.  This  conflict  of  ends  and  means 
requires  that  some  one  be  chosen  and  the  conflict 
ended. 

Grounds  of  Choice. — The  nature  of  choice  we  have 
studied  previously.  It  is  the  selection  of  some  one 
desire,  its  identification  with  self,  and  consequent  ob- 


392 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


jectification  as  an  end  of  action.  The  chosen  desire 
becomes  the  motive.  "We  have  now  only  to  study  the 
grounds  of  choice.  Why  is  one  desire  selected  and 
decided  upon  as  an  end  of  action  while  another  is  re- 
jected? The  desire  which  is  chosen  becomes  the  mo- 
tive, but  what  is  the  motive  to  choice  ? In  prudential 
action  the  general  answer  is,  that  desire  is  chosen 
whose  satisfaction  is  conceived  to  result  in  the  most 
advantage.  Of  all  possible  ends  that  is  made  the  ac- 
tual end  whose  realization  affords  the  most  benefit. 
Superior  advantage  of  result  is  the  motive  in  all  pru- 
dential action.  But  what  are  the  factors  which  decide 
what  will  be  regarded  as  most  advantageous,  and  hence 
be  made  the  motive? 

1.  Choice  Depends  on  Individual  Characteristics. — 
That  which  appears  of  most  worth  to  one  will  not  to 
another.  The  factors  which  are,  for  the  individual, 
accidental  will  decide  largely  where  choice  falls.  The 
hereditary  influences,  the  early  home  life,  the  circum- 
stances of  education  and  of  surroundings  all  enter  in 
to  fix  what  one  considers  to  be  of  the  higher  advan- 
tage to  himself.  A savage’s  idea  of  what  is  most  desi- 
rable differs  from  that  of  the  civilized  man,  and  that  of 
the  ancient  Greek  from  that  of  the  modern  Briton. 
Every  choice  which  renders  a desire  a motive  reflects 
also  the  past  experience  of  the  person.  He  will  not 
be  apt  to  choose  that  which  has  not  been  in  intimate 
connection  with  his  former  doings.  The  channels  along 
which  he  has  habitually  directed  his  imagination,  the 
fancies  he  has  indulged  in,  will  also  be  determining 
factors. 

2.  Choice  Depends  upon  Knowledge. — But  supposing 
that  the  individuals  who  choose  are  alike  in  other  re- 


PRUDENTIAL  CONTROL. 


393 


spects,  their  choice  of  an  end  will  depend  upon  their 
knowledge.  Jnst  in  proportion  as  one’s  knowledge 
in  a given  direction  is  comprehensive  and  definite 
will  he  be  able  to  tell  which  of  many  possible  ends  is 
the  most  advantageous.  One  may  choose,  for  example, 
to  engage  in  a certain  business  as  the  best  of  many  al- 
ternatives, and  this  may  turn  out  about  the  most  harm- 
ful, because  of  influences  which  his  limitation  of  knowl- 
edge would  not  allow  him  to  take  into  account — the 
character  of  his  business  associates,  a financial  crisis, 
perils  by  fire  and  water,  etc.  To  sum  up,  we  may  say, 
the  person  makes  that  an  end  which  he  regards  as  pro- 
ductive of  most  advantage;  what  he  regards  as  most 
advantageous  depends  upon  the  accidents  of  his  birth, 
surroundings,  and  past  experiences,  and  upon  the  ex- 
tent of  his  knowledge  in  enabling  him  to  determine 
that  whose  selection  will  prove  of  greatest  profit. 

Choice  of  Means.  — Along  with  the  choice  of  end 
goes  the  choice  of  means  to  reach  the  end.  In  a gen- 
eral way  it  may  be  said  that  the  choice  of  the  end  is 
the  choice  of  means.  In  choosing  an  end  one  must 
choose  whatever  is  necessary  to  it.  But  many  differ- 
ent ways  of  accomplishing  the  one  end  may  present 
themselves,  out  of  which  some  one  must  be  selected. 
Aside  from  personal  idiosyncracy,  the  essential  factor 
in  deciding  is  the  range  of  knowledge.  The  means 
at  hand  will  be  compared  by  the  intellect;  the  mind 
will  calculate  so  far  as  it  may  the  consequences  of 
choice  in  either  direction,  will  weigh  the  resulting  ad- 
vantages and  disadvantages  of  each,  and  then  strike 
the  balance  in  favor  of  the  side  upon  which  most  ad- 
vantage lies,  so  far  as  knowledge  will  allow  it  to  be 
calculated. 

17* 


394 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


III.  Forms  of  Prudential  Control. — These  are  three, 
practical,  intellectual,  and  emotional. 

1.  Practical  Control. — This  includes  all  actions  ex- 
ternally directed  with  a view  to  reaching  some  ad- 
vantage. It  involves,  in  the  first  place,  the  checking 
or  inhibition  of  some  action.  A child,  for  example, 
sees  some  sweetmeats,  and  is  impelled  to  eat  them  by 
the  idea  of  the  satisfaction  they  will  give  him.  There 
then  occurs  another  thought — the  representation  of  his 
mother’s  displeasure  or  of  possible  sickness.  These 
originate  an  aversion  to  the  sweetmeats,  and  an  action 
away  from  them.  This  conflict  will  result  in  the 
checking  of  one  or  the  other  of  the  actions.  The  fact 
that  all  volitional  action  implies  some  degree  of  possi- 
ble conflict  shows  that  the  first  step  in  control  is  inhi- 
bition. The  next  is  postponement.  That  is  to  say,  the 
child  acts  with  reference  to  more  remote  ends.  He 
undergoes  some  present  painful  operation  in  consider- 
ation of  some  future  good,  the  recovery  of  health.  Or 
he  abstains  from  present  pleasurable  indulgence,  think- 
ing of  some  future  pain.  Or  he  goes  through  some 
operation,  in  itself  perhaps  a matter  neither  of  desire 
nor  of  aversion,  because  he  sees  it  to  be  a necessary 
condition  of  something  that  is  desired.  Postponement 
becomes  connection  of  acts.  As  inhibition  leads  him 
to  refer  one  present  act  to  another  and  consider  them 
in  their  relations  to  each  other,  so  the  postponement  of 
action  leads  him  to  connect  his  acts  serially,  and  make 
successive  acts  mutually  tributary  to  one  another. 

Enlargement  of  Scope. — The  third  and  final  step  is 
that  the  actions  occur  with  reference,  not  only  to  more 
remote  ends,  but  to  more  inclusive  ones.  The  child 
acts  with  reference  to  health  as  a comprehensive,  per- 


PRUDENTIAL  CONTROL. 


395 


manent  end.  He  so  acts  with  reference  to  the  ap- 
proval of  others,  to  the  attainment  of  a mastery  of 
some  trade,  etc.  Then  he  may  form  a most  compre- 
hensive end,  say  happiness,  which  shall  include  all 
these,  and  act  with  reference  to  that.  So  far  as  he 
does  thus  act  with  reference  to  some  one  comprehen- 
sive end,  he  has  himself  in  perfect  prudential,  practi- 
cal self-control,  for  this  comprehensive  end  will  lead 
him  to  inhibit  all  acts  which  are  not  in  accordance  with 
it,  and  to  connect  all  successive  acts  so  as  to  lead  up 
to  it. 

Results. — As  the  results  of  this  increasing  control, 
action  becomes  more  reasoned  or  deliberate ; evincing 
more  pertinacity  or  perseverance,  and  being  more  reso- 
lute or  determined.  The  deliberateness  of  an  act  is 
opposed  to  its  impulsiveness.  If  we  bring  reason  to 
bear  upon  an  impulse,  the  result  is  that  we  do  not 
act  immediately,  but  from  the  consequences  which  rea- 
son shows  as  likely  to  flow  from  the  act.  Early  im- 
pulses are  also  easily  turned  aside.  The  occurrence  of 
some  other  impulse  leads  the  child  to  forget  the  act 
upon  which  he  is  engaged,  and  diverts  his  energies 
into  the  new  channel.  The  setting-up  of  a more  re- 
mote end  towards  which  all  mediate  acts  must  be  or- 
ganized, changes  this.  Will  becomes  persevering.  It 
recognizes  that  action  must  persist  in  one  choice  to  ac- 
complish anything.  Uniting  the  qualities  of  delibera- 
tion and  perseverance,  together  with  a firm  grasp  upon 
the  end  of  action,  is  resolute  will.  A child  may  perse- 
vere to  the  attainment  of  some  chosen  end,  but  his  will 
cannot  be  called  determined  or  resolute  unless  he  is 
conscious  of  what  the  end  is,  how  it  is  related  to  other 
ends,  and  has  consciously  subordinated  them  to  it ; un- 


396 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


less,  in  short,  he  has  formed  an  end  which  is  compre- 
hensive. A firm  or  controlled  will  is  deliberate  in 
making  its  choice,  tenacious  to  this  choice,  and  resolute 
in  making  use  of  whatever  means  will  realize  it. 

2.  Intellectual  Control. — To  go  exhaustively  into  the 
subject  of  intellectual  control  would  be  simply  to  re- 
peat what  has  already  been  said  concerning  attention. 
This,  indeed,  has  been  defined  as  inner  will.  The  study 
of  its  mode  of  action  is  merely  the  study  of  the  way  in 
which  the  mind  masters  and  controls  its  thoughts,  di- 
recting them  to  some  end.  It  may  be  recalled  here 
that  attention  involves  an  inhibiting  activity.  In  giv- 
ing attention  even  to  the  least  complex  presentation 
the  attracting  force  of  all  other  presentations  must  be 
disregarded.  The  positive  development  of  intellectual 
control,  on  the  other  hand,  is  seen  in  increased  ability 
to  fix  the  mind  upon  some  one  subject — concentration 
— and  in  the  ability  to  pursue  longer  and  longer  courses 
of  subordinate  mental  processes,  all  leading  up  to  a final 
goal.  In  memory  we  manifest  intellectual  control  in 
the  process  of  recollection,  where  we  fixate  attention 
upon  some  element  and  thereby  greatly  increase  its 
power  to  redintegrate  what  we  are  seeking  for.  Think- 
ing is  an  example,  on  a large  scale,  of  intellectual  con- 
trol; for  here  we  consciously  adjust  our  conceptions 
with  a view  of  bringing  about  a certain  mental  re- 
sult. 

3.  Emotional  Control. — Here,  as  in  the  other  forms, 
the  first  step  is  a negative  one,  to  restrain  the  feeling. 
This  is  chiefly  brought  about  indirectly  by  the  control 
of  the  muscular  system.  In  studying  the  sensuous  im- 
pulses, we  saw  that  emotions  tend  to  manifest  them- 
selves in  movements.  It  follows  that  if  we  can  control 


PRUDENTIAL  CONTROL. 


397 


these  movements,  by  the  process  studied  in  the  last 
chapter,  we  also  control  the  emotions.  In  controlling 
feelings  like  anger,  for  example,  the  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  to  repress  its  outward  manifestation.  But  this 
may  simply  turn  the  feeling  into  another  channel.  If 
it  is  repressed  from  any  external  motive,  it  is  almost 
sure  to  do  so.  In  this  case  anger  turns  into  sullen 
brooding  or  a desire  for  revenge.  It  is  evident  that 
there  must  be  some  further  method  of  checking  feel- 
ing. This  is  again  indirect  through  control  of  our 
thoughts.  That  is  to  say,  if  anger  is  the  feeling  to  be 
inhibited,  the  thoughts  must  be  kept  away  from  the 
person  who  has  inflicted  the  injury  and  from  the  injury 
itself,  and  directed  towards  any  benefits  that  may  have 
been  derived  from  the  person,  or  towards  any  subject 
that  will  arouse  pleasurable  feeling.  This  suggests  the 
most  efficient  method  of  repressing  any  feeling,  name- 
ly, calling  up  an  opposed  emotion  which  will  expel  it. 
In  general,  it  may  be  said  that  it  is  not  the  way  to  get 
rid  of  a feeling  to  destroy  it,  leaving  a vacuum.  This 
is  impossible.  It  can  be  done  only  by  introducing  a 
stronger  opposed  feeling. 

Positive  Control. — Many  psychologists  have  treated 
the  subject  of  control  of  feeling  as  if  it  were  exhaust- 
ed when  it  is  shown  how  feeling  is  repressed.  But  this 
is  a one-sided  view.  Feeling  is  a normal  factor  of  our 
psychical  life,  and  involves,  therefore,  as  much  as  any 
other  factor,  regulated  development  towards  a certain 
end.  The  inhibition  of  feeling  is  not  an  end  in  itself, 
but  mereljr  a necessary  means  in  order  that  the  feel- 
ings which  are  not  inhibited  may  be  duly  developed. 
Anger  is  repressed  only  that  benevolence  or  some  oth- 
er emotion  may  express  itself.  Were  feeling  really 


398 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


suppressed,  all  action  would  be  suppressed  also,  for  no 
desire,  no  motive  to  act,  would  remain. 

The  positive  control  of  feeling  consists  in  so  direct- 
ing it  that  it  becomes  a stimulus  to  knowledge  or  to 
action.  The  emotion  of  indignation,  for  example,  is 
controlled,  not  when  it  is  obliterated,  but  when  it  is  so 
directed  that  it  does  not  expend  itself  in  vague  or  vio- 
lent reaction,  but  quickens  thought  and  spurs  to  action. 
Many  of  the  world’s  greatest  orations,  as  well  as  deeds 
of  valor,  are  so  many  illustrations  of  controlled  indig- 
nation. Feeling  that  merely  expresses  itself  is  uncon- 
trolled ; feeling  that  subserves  the  intellect  or  the  will 
is  controlled.  Feeling  does  not  cease  to  be  feeling  in 
becoming  thus  subservient ; on  the  contrary,  it  becomes 
more  susceptible,  readier,  and  deeper. 

Martineau  (op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  G5-74 ; Bain,  “Emotions  and  Will,”  pp.  399- 
419  ; Carpenter  (op.  cit.),  pp.  386-428 ; George  (op.  cit.),  p.  576  if. ; Voikmann 
(op.  cit.),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  463^489. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 
MORAL  CONTROL. 


Relation  to  Prudential.  — Prudential  action  is  not 
in  itself  moral  action,  yet  there  is  no  prudential  action 
which  is  not  potentially  in  the  ethical  sphere,  and 
hence  either  moral  or  immoral.  Actions  may  be  di- 
rected, for  example,  so  as  to  preserve  health,  and  carry 
on  a business  which  it  is  supposed  will  lead  to  wealth. 
So  far  they  are  only  prudential.  But  as  soon  as  the 
preservation  of  health  is  seen  to  be  a duty  (and  so, 
in  many  cases,  with  the  securing  of  a certain  compe- 
tency), the  acts  become  moral  action.  Or  if  the  se- 
curing; wealth  will  necessitate  the  non-securing  of  some 
other  end,  which  is  recognized  to  be  higher,  or  will 
necessitate  certain  means,  as  dishonesty  or  lying,  the 
act  becomes  immoral.  The  terms  “ prudential  ” and 
“ moral  ” do  not  refer,  therefore,  to  two  hinds  of  acts, 
for  the  same  act  may  be  either  or  both.  What  is  the 
distinction  ? 

Distinction  of  Moral  from  Prudential. — In  brief, 
the  difference  is  that  a prudential  act  is  measured  by 
the  result ; the  moral,  by  the  motive.  A man  may  in- 
tend, for  example,  to  gain  a certain  advantage  for  him- 
self by  embarking  in  a certain  line  of  action,  but  his 
knowledge  is  limited.  Hew  circumstances  occur,  and 
his  purpose  is  thwarted.  The  action  turns  out  to  be  a 
disadvantageous  or  imprudent  one.  But  if  a man  in- 


400 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tends  a moral  action  the  result  cannot  be  immoral, 
however  unforeseen  or  deplorable  it  may  be.  On  the 
other  hand,  an  act  which  appears  rash  at  the  time  may, 
by  lucky  and  opportune  happenings,  result  in  gain. 
But  an  act  whose  purpose  is  immoral  cannot  result  in 
morality,  no  matter  how  beneficial  to  any  one  it  may 
be.  If  a surgeon  intends  to  save  a man’s  life,  and  per- 
forms an  act  with  that  motive  solely,  and  the  result  is 
the  man’s  death,  the  result  is  deplorable,  but  it  is  not 
wrong.  If  a man  intends  to  kill  another,  but,  failing, 
unwittingly  does  the  man  a great  benefit,  the  result  is 
a desirable  one,  but  the  action  is  immoral.  Actions , in 
short , that  are  judged  from,  their  motives  alone  are  acts 
lying  in  the  moral  sphere. 

Analysis  of  Moral  Action. — Why  do  we  make  this 
distinction  ? Why  do  some  acts  get  their  character  es- 
tablished by  their  results,  and  others  by  their  motives? 
This  question  is  an  ethical  question,  if  we  inquire  into 
the  ultimate  ground  of  the  distinction  ; it  is  a psycho- 
logical question  when  we  ask  through  what  conditions 
it  originates  as  a fact  in  psychical  life.  It  is  a psychi- 
cal fact  that  we  do  judge  some  acts  by  their  motives 
and  others  by  their  results,  and  this  difference  must 
have  its  origin  in  some  psychical  processes.  We  have 
only  to  inquire  what,  as  matter  of  fact,  these  processes 
are.  This  brings  us  to  the  analysis  of  a moral  action, 
to  see  what  constitutes  it. 

Responsibility . — Before  answering  directly  the  ques- 
tion why  we  estimate  the  quality  of  some  acts  by  their 
results  and  that  of  others  by  their  intention,  we  must 
recognize  a further  difference  between  prudential  and 
moral  acts.  The  doer  recognizes  his  personal  responsi- 
bility for  the  act  in  the  latter  case,  while  in  the  former 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


401 


he  does  not.  The  person  may  regret  the  result  of  a 
course  of  action  undertaken  to  derive  some  benefit,  if 
it  turns  out  hurtfully,  or  if  the  disadvantages  outweigh 
the  accruing  gains,  but  he  does  not  blame  himself  for 
this  result.  This  gives  us  the  added  fact  that  an  indi- 
vidual does  not  hold  himself  responsible  for  the  result 
of  his  actions,  but  only  for  their  motives.  When  the 
result  is  the  direct  outcome  of  the  motive,  responsibil- 
ity is  extended,  of  course,  to  the  former. 

Dasis  of  Distinction. — It  is  easy  to  see  why  a man 
does  not  hold  himself  responsible  for  the  result  of  an 
action,  except  so  far  as  that  result  is  the  legitimate  ef- 
fect of  his  motive  in  action.  It  is  because  the  result  is 
beyond  his  control.  The  commencement  of  the  action 
may  lie  with  him  ; its  issue  does  not.  The  final  out- 
come is  determined  by  a multitude  of  causes  of  which 
the  one  acting  can  foresee  only  a few.  It  is  impossi- 
ble, in  originating  an  action,  to  tell  how  many  forces, 
hitherto  unnoticed,  may  be  set  in  motion  ; it  is  impos- 
sible to  tell  how  many  forces  independently  set  in  op- 
eration by  others  may  cross  the  workings  of  these 
forces,  sometimes  reinforcing  them,  sometimes  nullify- 
ing them.  Or,  as  was  said  before,  the  ground  of  de- 
cision in  prudential  action  is  the  surroundings  and 
knowledge  of  the  one  deciding.  Whether  the  result 
is  reached  or  not  depends  upon  the  extent  and  limita- 
tions of  these  decisive  factors.  For  these  limitations  one 
does  not  hold  himself  responsible,  and,  because  he  does 
not,  he  does  not  hold  himself  responsible  for  the  result. 

Actions  in  the  Moral  Sphere. — On  the  other  hand, 
if  some  acts  are  judged  by  their  motives,  and  if  the  ac- 
tor holds  himself  responsible  for  these  motives,  it  fol- 
lows that  he  must  regard  these  motives  as  within  his 


402 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


control.  For  example,  the  surgeon,  taking  measures 
to  perform  an  operation,  which  finally  results  fatally, 
judges  his  act  to  be  unsuccessful  from  the  prudential 
point  of  view,  but  not  to  be  immoral.  He  did  the 
best  he  knew  how.  The  issue  lay  with  forces  of  nat- 
ure. Suppose,  however,  that  from  a motive  of  indiffer- 
ence, of  love  of  ease,  or  of  love  of  speedy  fame,  he  has 
not  gained  some  information  which  he  might  have 
acquired  regarding  the  state  of  his  patient,  and  which 
would  have  induced  him  to  act  otherwise.  In  such  a 
case  he  blames  himself  for  the  result,  that  is,  he  judges 
it  from  the  moral  point  of  view.  He  estimates  his  act 
from  the  quality  of  its  motive,  and  he  does  so  because 
he  recognizes  that,  while  he  does  not  make  the  result, 
he  does  make  the  motive. 

Moral  Action  and  Personality. — The  fact  that  we 
estimate  the  quality  of  some  acts  as  successful  or  non- 
successful according  to  their  outcome,  while  we  esti- 
mate that  of  others  as  moral  or  immoral  according  to 
their  motive,  is,  therefore,  due  to  the  fact  that  the  lat- 
ter are  determined  by  personality  alone,  while  the 
former  are  determined  by  some  accident  or  contin- 
gency, as  it  were,  of  personalit}'.  Some  actions  affect 
the  man,  what  he  is  in  himself ; others  affect  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  man,  what  he  has  about  him.  A 
man’s  wealth,  his  health,  his  knowledge,  his  general 
prosperity  are  not  himself ; they  are  what  the  man 
has  or  would  have.  A man’s  will  is  himself.  Every 
act  that  arises  from  will  or  personality,  but  has  its 
result  in  something  external  to  that  will,  something 
which  the  will  has , is  a prudential  act.  Every  act  that 
both  arises  from  and  affects  the  will,  the  being  of  a 
man,  is  in  the  moral  sphere. 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


403 


The  wealth  a man  possesses,  the  esteem  in  which  he 
is  held,  the  degree  of  bodily  well-being  which  charac- 
terizes him,  are  circumstances  of  the  man  ; they  are 
not  the  man.  All  acts  which  aim  at  these  external 
circumstances  are  estimated  by  the  extent  to  which 
they  realize  these  circumstances ; by  their  results. 
Where  a man  wills  to  tell  the  truth  he  wills  to  be  some- 
thing; and  even  if  what  he  says  is  false  by  reason  of 
the  limitation  of  his  knowledge,  he  is  still  true.  The 
fact  about  which  he  makes  his  statement  is  external,  and 
his  knowledge  of  it  is  decided  by  facts  external  to  him. 
His  motive  to  tell  the  truth  is  internal  to  him,  and  is  de- 
cided by  himself,  and  cannot  be  changed  by  the  contin- 
gency of  the  result.  If  his  motive  is  truth,  he  cannot 
be  false,  no  matter  how  false  the  actual  result  may  be. 

Prudential  Actions  become  Moral. — Hone  the  less 
actions  directed  towards  the  attainment  of  wealth,  of 
health,  of  knowledge,  of  esteem,  etc.,  are,  as  matter  of 
fact,  in  the  moral  sphere,  and  form,  indeed,  the  content 
of  most  moral  actions.  How  can  we  reconcile  this 
statement  with  the  one  previously  made  that  they  are 
external  to  personality,  circumstances  of  i t?  The  rec- 
onciliation lies  in  the  fact  that  while  health,  knowl- 
edge, etc.,  do  not  in  themselves  constitute  personality, 
or  will,  they  may  be  necessary  conditions  of  its  real- 
ization. A man  cannot  be  the  person  he  otherwise 
would  be,  if  he  is  ignorant,  sickly,  and  so  poor  as  not 
to  be  able  properly  to  support  his  family.  So  far  as 
these  circumstances  are  necessary  to  the  realization  of 
personality,  they  become  themselves  moral  ends,  and 
constitute  acts  which  are  judged  by  their  motives. 
Taken  by  themselves,  or  in  abstraction  from  the  reali- 
zation of  personality,  they  are  not  such  ; taken  as  ends 


404 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


in  opposition  to  the  realization  of  personality  they  be- 
come immoral. 

Summary. — It  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said 
that  moral  action  only  brings  into  explicit  consciousness 
that  which  is  virtually  contained  in  prudential  action. 
All  prudential  action  must  have  its  end  ultimately  in 
its  effect  upon  the  person  willing;  health,  knowledge, 
etc.,  cannot  be  ultimate  ends.  They  are  ends  only  be- 
cause in  them  the  personality  reaches  its  end  and  be- 
comes itself.  When  we  treat  them  as  if  they  were 
ends  in  themselves,  we  are  simply  neglecting  or  ab- 
stracting from  their  effect  on  the  will  itself.  When 
we  complete  our  account  by  taking  this  into  considera- 
tion, we  are  in  the  realm  of  moral  action.  When  we 
do  take  personality  into  account  we  judge  the  act  from 
its  motive ; for  while  the  result  is  external  to  the  per- 
sonality, the  motive  is  internal  to  it  and  reveals  what 
the  personality  is  and  would  be. 

The  actual  will  to  be  something,  not  the  mere  desire 
or  longing  for  it,  but  the  resolute  choice  to  be  it,  con- 
stitute the  being  it.  The  will  to  have  it  does  not  con- 
stitute the  having  it.  A man  who  wills  to  be  good 
■will  be  good.  A man  who  wills  to  be  learned,  to  be  a 
statesman,  etc.,  is  not  necessarily  such,  because,  after  all, 
these  are  circumstances  which  he  may  have,  not  the 
personality  which  he  is.  The  man  also  holds  himself 
responsible  for  the  moral  action,  because  his  personality 
constitutes  the  motive ; it  is  not  constituted  by  any- 
thing external  to  him.  The  recognition  of  personality 
as  constituting  the  essence  of  moral  action  enables  us, 
therefore,  to  account  for  its  two  distinguishing  features 
— that  it  is  measured  by  its  motive,  and  that  responsi- 
bility for  it  is  recognized. 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


405 


Treatment  of  Subject. — Having  analyzed  moral  ac- 
tion, we  have  now  to  consider  (1)  the  process  of  the 
development  of  ethical  desires,  whether  moral  or  im- 
moral ; (2)  the  nature  of  ethical  choice;  (3)  the  result 
of  moral  control,  formation  of  character,  etc.  The  cau- 
tion already  mentioned  must  be  kept  in  mind ; though 
we  are  dealing  with  ethical  material,  we  are  dealing 
with  it  only  as  a matter  of  psychological  experience. 

I.  Development  of  Ethical  Desires. — Ethical  desires, 
whether  moral  or  immoral,  arise  when  any  action  is  to 
be  performed  whose  result  is  seen  to  affect  personality 
itself,  and  not  any  of  its  possessions  or  circumstances. 
As  matter  of  historic  development,  they  probably  con- 
sciously arise  in  the  conflict  between  having  something 
and  being  something.  The  child,  for  example,  has  been 
told  not  to  touch  some  sweetmeats,  and  is  very  desir- 
ous of  eating  them.  How  the  desire  of  eating  them  is 
not  in  itself,  of  course,  immoral,  but  it  conflicts  with 
the  desire  to  be  in  harmony  with  his  mother’s  wishes 
and  the  worthy  recipient  of  her  love.  The  child  does 
not  reason  the  matter  out,  but  he  feels  that  if  he  yields 
to  his  desire  he  will  have  come  short  of  that  which  he 
should  be.  This  consciousness  of  coming  short  of  his 
own  true  being  is,  without  doubt,  a reflex  one  and  not 
a direct  one ; that  is  to  say,  he  feels  himself  measured 
by  a standard  of  himself  which  his  mother  holds  up, 
and  not  by  a standard  which  he  consciously  holds  be- 
fore himself ; but  the  psychological  essence  of  the  act 
remains  unchanged.  He  feels  that  the  desire  is  im- 
moral, because  its  gratification  will  lead  to  a lowering 
of  himself.  He  will  have  more  immediate  pleasure, 
but  he  will  be  less.  .The  desire  to  obey  he  feels  tojbe 
moral,  for  the  opposite  reason. 


4:00 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


Extension  of  Desire  in  the  Ethical  Sphere. — The 
process  roughly  sketched  here  constantly  widens  the 
range  of  feelings  and  desires  which  are  felt  to  have 
moral  bearings.  At  the  beginning,  in  many,  perhaps 
all  cases,  the  child  feels  the  ethical  bearing  only  of  such 
acts  as  are  directly  commanded  or  are  forbidden ; acts 
which  are  accompanied  also  by  pleasures  and  pains  as 
their  rewards  and  penalties.  Only  such  acts  are  seen 
to  have  any  relation  to  his  own  personal  worth.  But 
as  his  experiences  widen  and  his  feelings  come  in  con- 
tact with  more  objects  his  desires  increase,  and  more 
and  more  of  these  desires  are  seen  to  have  direct  bear- 
ing upon  the  inner  core  of  his  own  being,  as  distinct 
from  the  circumstances  of  his  life.  The  widening  ex- 
tends also  in  another  direction.  Not  only  does  he  rec- 
ognize that  each  desire  has,  if  realized,  some  connec- 
tion with  himself,  but  he  recognizes  also  that' each  will 
is  a personality  as  much  as  himself.  lie  sees  that  while 
lie  may  have  more  or  less  than  other  persons,  he  can  be 
a person  or  will  no  more  and  no  less  than  they.  The 
claims  of  their  personality  are  equal  to  the  claims  of 
his.  This  gradually  extends  his  desires  to  include  the 
welfare  of  those  in  the  same  family  with  him.  No 
end  can  be  set  to  the  process  in  either  direction.  There 
is  no  desire  which  does  not  have  a possible  bearing  upon 
the  realization  of  himself ; there  is  no  person  who  does 
not  have  a possible  relation  to  him  which  may  become 
the  source  of  a desire  for  the  realization  of  that  per- 
sonality. Of  course,  the  desire  may  tend  the  other  way  ; 
it  may  be  towards  such  a gratification  of  himself  as 
will  thwart  his  own  realization  or  that  of  some  other 
person. 

Conflict  of  Desires. — The  same  processes  that  origi- 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


407 


nate  desires  bring  them  into  opposition  with  each  other. 
The  difference  between  the  conflict  of  desires  in  the 
ethical  and  in  the  prudential  sphere  is,  that  since  in  the 
latter  acts  are  judged  by  their  results,  desires  range 
themselves  along  a scale,  and  the  question  is  simply 
concerning  which  desire  to  gratify  in  order  to  get  the 
most  advantage  ; in  the  ethical  sphere,  since  actions  are 
judged  by  their  motives,  the  conflict  is  between  two 
desires,  which  represent  not  a possible  more  or  less,  but 
an  actual  opposition.  The  conflict  is  between  desires 
for  qualitatively  opposed  ends.  In  other  words,  the  con- 
flict is  always  between  desire  for  an  end  which  is  felt 
to  be  good,  and  desire  for  an  end  which  is  felt  to  be 
wrong.  The  desire,  as  said  before,  is  not  wrong  in  it- 
self, but  its  satisfaction  is  felt  to  be  wrong,  because  it 
is  incompatible  with  the  realization  of  the  good.  In 
ethical  matters  the  lesser  good  is  felt  to  be  the  bad. 

II.  Ethical  Choice. — This  conflict  of  desires  is  set- 
tled, as  are  all  similar  conflicts,  by  the  act  of  choice  or 
decision,  which  is  that  identification  by  self  of  itself 
with  one  of  the  desires  which  renders  it  the  motive  to 
action.  The  act  of  choice  selects  some  desire,  and  says 
that  that  one  shall  be  realized.  The  object  of  any 
desire  is  ideal,  for  it  has  no  existence  as  yet ; choice 
changes  the  mere  longing  for  its  reality  into  the  as- 
sertion that  it  shall  be  made  real.  Choice  is  practical 
judgment.  Judgment  (page  214)  asserts  that  some 
reality  is  possessed  of  some  ideal  quality,  or  that  some 
ideal  quality  is  real.  Choice  asserts  that  this  ideal 
quality  shall  be  real.  Judgment  as  theoretical  is  about 
things  as  they  are ; judgment  as  practical  is  about 
things  as  the  self  will  have  them  to  be. 

Grounds  of  Choice. — Any  desire  becomes  a motive 


408 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


because  it  is  clioseu.  Why  is  it  chosen  ? Why  does 
the  self  reject  one  desire  which  is  competing  for  its 
identification  with  self  and  select  another  ? To  an- 
swer this  question  we  must  distinguish  between  the 
content  and  the  form  of  what  is  chosen.  In  prudential 
choice  the  form  is  identical  in  all  acts ; for  it  is  the  ad- 
vantage to  be  gained  by  that  act.  The  content  is  the 
specific  advantage  sought  for — health,  public  reputa- 
tion, place.  And  the  ground  of  choice  is,  that  con- 
tent is  chosen  which  seems  to  the  chooser  to  corre- 
spond most  closely  with  the  form  under  which  it  is 
subsumed — advantage.  In  moral  actions,  on  the  oth- 
er hand,  there  are  two  forms,  not  one,  possible,  and 
the  choice  is  primarily  not  about  the  content  to  he 
included  under  the  form,  but  about  the  form  itself. 
The  form  is  good  or  bad.  The  question  which  con- 
tent shall  be  willed,  whether  truth,  temperance,  cour- 
age, patience,  purity — which,  in  short,  of  the  virtues, 
is  a subordinate  question,  as  is  the  one  regarding  any 
content  of  bad  action  or  a vice.  To  answer  the  ques- 
tion regarding  the  grounds  of  choice,  we  must  ask  sep- 
arately regarding  the  content  and  the  form. 

Choice  of  Content. — Why  is  this  or  that  special  kind 
of  good  action  chosen  rather  than  another?  Or,  to 
put  the  question  more  correctly,  why  does  one  regard 
one  course  of  action  as  the  good,  while  to  another  the 
good  content  is  something  else?  Such,  of  course,  is 
the  fact.  A South  Sea  Islander’s  idea  of  what  actually 
constitutes  good  is  hardly  the  same  as  that  of  a civil- 
ized man.  The  ocmipant  of  a crowded  tenement-house 
in  a large  city,  surrounded  from  birth  by  almost  every 
variety  of  evil,  can  hardly  have  the  same  ideas  of  what 
constitutes  the  content  of  good  and  of  bad  as  one  edu- 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


409 


cated  in  a refined  family  and  subject  from  the  first  to 
the  most  elevated  and  purifying  influences.  The  ideal, 
the  standard,  of  one  varies  from  that  of  another ; that 
is  to  say,  the  content  which  is  conceived  as  coming 
under  the  form  of  good  or  bad  varies. 

Reason  for  This. — In  stating  that  this  difference  ex- 
ists we  have  virtually  shown  why  it  exists.  The  reason 
that  one  chooses  one  content  as  good  while  to  another 
the  same  content  appears  as  unworthy,  or  even  posi- 
tively bad,  is  the  relative  limitation  and  extent  of  the 
circumstances  of  each,  which  cause  the  knowledge  or 
conception  of  each  to  take  the  form  that  it  does.  The 
grounds  for  the  choice  of  a given  content  in  moral  ac- 
tion are  precisely  what  they  are  in  prudential  action. 
The  choice  in  each  case  is  limited  by  the  man’s  birth, 
early  training,  surroundings,  and  resulting  knowledge. 
The  good  to  oue  man  may  be  to  abstain  from  stealing 
a loaf  of  bread,  to  keep  himself  free  from  the  influ- 
ences of  intoxicating  liquors;  to  another  man  it  will 
be  to  devote  his  life  to  the  elevation  of  humanity 
through  great  self-sacrifice.  Each  comes  under  the 
form  of  good ; but  the  content  which  is  given  this 
form  is  the  result  of  the  circumstances  of  the  person, 
using  that  word  in  its  widest  sense. 

Choice  of  Form. — But  there  is  another  question  yet 
to  be  answered:  why  does  the  will  choose  good  in 
preference  to  bad,  or  vice  versa  ? We  have  seen  why 
it  chooses  the  special  good  that  it  does,  but  why  should 
it  choose  good  at  all?  What  are  the  grounds  of  this 
choice?  It  is  evident  from  what  has  been  said  that 
the  grounds  of  this  choice  cannot  be  external  to  the 
will,  but  must  be  in  the  will  itself.  The  moral  worth 
of  the  act  is  constituted  by  its  motive,  and  not  by  its 
18 


410 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


result;  and  the  motive  is  constituted  by  the  will  itself, 
by  the  personality.  The  answer  to  the  question  why 
one  man  chooses  truth  as  a good  under  certain  circum- 
stances while  another  chooses  kindness  could  be  found 
in  the  antecedents  and  circumstances  of  the  chooser  if 
our  knowledge  were  sufficiently  extended.  Why  he 
chooses  a good  at  all  rather  than  a wrong  finds  its  an- 
swer only  in  the  will  of  the  man  himself.  He  will 
have  himself  good.  The  reason  that  he  will  is,  that  he 
will.  Only  the  ideal  of  himself  as  good  will  satisfy 
him.  If  we  ask  why  this  ideal  alone  is  satisfactory  we 
can  get  no  other  answer  than  this  : he  wills  to  be  satis- 
fied in  that,  and  in  that  alone.  It  is  willed  because  it 
is  satisfactory;  it  is  satisfactory  because  it  is  willed  as 
that  the  man  would  be. 

Meaning  of  this  Circle. — In  other  words,  we  here 
reach  an  ultimate  fact  in  the  psychological  constitution 
of  man.  He  has  the_^ower  of  determ iniruj—himnelf. 


He  has  the  power  of  setting  up  an  ideal  of  what  he_- 
would  have  himself  be,  and  this  ideal  in  form  depends 
only  upon  himself.  If  one  man  chooses  moral  evil 
Tinder  certain  circumstances,  and  another  man  chooses^ 
moral  good,  the  sole  answer  to  the  question  why  each 
acts  as  he  does  is  that  one  man  will  have  himself  good, 
the  other  bad.  Each  wills  a certain  ideal  of  himself,  f 
and  according  to  the  ideal  willed  so  is  he.  In  moral  i 
matters  a man  is  what  he  would  have  himself  be.  The 
will  to  be  good  is  the  being  good.  In  moral  action,  in 
other  words,  the  action  is  measured  by  the  motive,  and 
the  motive  is  decided  by  what  a man’s  ideal  of  himself 
is;  by  his  conception  o-f  what  would  realize  his  nature. 
This  ideal  of  self-realization  depends/br  its  form  upon 
the  self  and  upon  that  alone.  For  its  content,  for  its 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


411 


sneoific  and  concrete  filling  up  it  depends,  as  previously 
shown,  upon  his  education,  surroundings,  etc.  But  the 
man’s  own  will,  the  core  of  his  personality,  decides 
what  he  would  have  himself  be,  and  this  decision  de- 
cides what  he  is.  Man  determines  himself  by  setting 
up  either  good  or  evil  as  a motive  to  himself,  and  he 
sets  up  either  as  he  will  have  himself  be. 

Summary. — Just  that  specific  act  which  a man 
chooses  as  good  or  bad  depends  upon  circumstances 
external  to  himself.  For  it,  in  other  words,  he  is  not 
responsible.  He  is  responsible  only  for  his  motive. 
If  his  motive  is  good  he  is  not  responsible  for  the  spe- 
cial direction  which  the  act  takes  unless  this  is  the 
result  of  some  previous  choice  of  his  own.  In  moral 
matters,  as  in  prudential,  a man  can  do  only  the  best 
that  he  knows.  But  a man  in  willing  the  good  at  all 
does  not  merely  will  the  best  that  he  knows,  or  that 
his  circumstances  permit  of,  but  he  wills  the  best  ab- 
solutely, the  best  that  the  universe  permits  of.  The 
concrete  content  of  the  good  action,  the  virtues,  de- 
pend upon  social  development;  the  good  depends  upon 
the  will  only.  Thejjood  is  the  will  to  be  good.  j'. 

III.  The  Result  of  Moral  Action.  — The  result  of 
moral  control  is  the  formation  of  character.  Each  act 
as  it  is  performed  has,  if  it  is  a moral  act,  its  effect 
upon  personality.  It  organizes  it  in  a certain  direc- 
tion. It  gives  it  a specific  set  or  bent.  Moral  action 
results  from  the  ideal  which  a man  forms  of  himself, 
and  occurs  in  order  that  he  may  realize  himself. 
This  realization  of  the  moral  self  constitutes  char- 
acter. A man  begins  with  that  whole  complex  of 
feelings  and  desires  which  are  given  him  by  nature 
and  his  social  surroundings,  and  with  the  capacity  of 


A'C/k  i.V''! 


412 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


choosing  from  these,  and  constituting  some  one,  that 
is,  some  anticipated  state  or  activity  of  himself,  an  end 
of  action.  Each  action,  as  it  takes  place,  gives  his  will 
a definite  content.  It  changes  the  capacitjr  to  choose 
into  something  actually  chosen.  It  furnishes  the  will 
with  certain  specific  concrete  organs.  This  furnishing 
is  what  we  call  character. 

Nature  of  Character. — Character  is  the  will  changed 
from  a capacity  into  an  actuality.  The  will  is  the 
power  to  realize  self  morally.  Character  is  the  self 
realized.  It  is  still  will,  but  it  is  will  made  organic 
and  real.  From  this  fundamental  nature  of  character 
flow  certain  subordinate  results,  which  may  be  summed 
up  as  follows:  first,  the  formation  of  generic  volition 
as  opposed  to  particular ; second,  the  regulation  of  de- 
sires ; third,  more  accurate  and  intuitive  choice ; fourth, 
more  effective  execution. 

1.  Generic  Volition. — By  this  term  is  meant  a voli- 
tion that  covers  a large  number  of  subordinate  specific 
volitions.  The  result,  for  example,  of  a general  ten- 
dency to  perform  acts  from  virtuous  motives,  that  is, 
from  the  will  to  realize  the  good,  is  the  generic  voli- 
tion of  goodness.  When  a strong  temptation  is  pre- 
sented to  a child,  it  is  conceivable  that  he  has  to  stop, 
as  it  were,  and  execute  a specific  volition  “to  be  good” 
in  this  especial  case.  If,  under  similar  circumstances, 
he  acts  in  a similar  way  habitually,  it  is  evident  that 
his  character  finally  gives  rise  to  a general  intention  or 
purpose  “ to  be  good,”  and  each  special  right  act  is 
simply  the  manifestation  of  this  governing  purpose  of 
the  life.  Another  name  given  to  this  same  fact  is  that 
of  “immanent  preference.”  This  phrase  brings  out 
the  additional  fact  that  the  generic  volition  continues 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


413 


in  action  even  when  there  is  no  overt  occasion  for  its 
manifestation.  A man’s  will  to  be  temperate  does  not 
cease  when  he  happens  not  to  be  eating  or  drinking,  or 
satisfying  any  appetite.  It  is  still  immanent  in  his 
being,  and  serves  unconsciously  to  direct  the  course  of 
his  actions. 

2.  Regulation  of  Desires.  — Original  impulses  are 
natural  in  the  sense  that  they  spring  from  the  physical 
and  psychical  constitution  of  man.  As  such,  they  are 
no  more  under  his  control  directly  than  are  any  forces 
of  nature.  But  desire  originates  only  when  these  im- 
pulses are  satisfied,  and  there  arises  the  intellectual 
representation  of  that  act  which  satisfies  them.  Up  to 
a certain  point  the  formation  of  desires  is  a spontane- 
ous, natural  process.  But  we  have  already  learned  that 
it  is  the  will,  the  man  himself,  who  decides  which  of 
these  desires  shall  be  realized.  The  satisfaction  of 
any  desire  strengthens  it,  for  it  adds  to  it  a new  repre- 
sentation of  the  act,  and  of  the  pleasure  which  neces- 
sarily accompanies  the  act.  Xefusal  to  make  the  de- 
sire a motive  or  end  of  action  not  only  represses  this 
particular  desire,  but  weakens  all  desires  similar  to  it. 
A desire  never  satisfied  would  finally  die  of  inanition. 
It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  every  choice  strengthens 
some  desires  and  weakens  others.  It  controls  them. 
Still  more  is  this  the  case  when  the  choice  has  become 
a generic  or  immanent  one.  This  encourages  the 
growth  of  all  desires  in  harmony  with  itself,  and  serves 
as  a check  upon  all  others  by  the  very  fact  of  its  exist- 
ence. The  formation  of  a settled  character  finally  de- 
cides what  a man’s  desires  shall  be.  It  strangles  ail 
opposite  ones  at  the  moment  of  their  birth. 

3.  Accurate  and  Intuitive  Choice.— It  is  evident  that 


414 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tliis  control  of  desires  exercises  great  influence  upon 
every  future  specific  choice.  Where  there  is  no  desire 
there  can  be  no  motive.  Where  the  desires  are  all,  or 
almost  all,  along  one  line  they  reinforce  each  other, 
and  the  specific  act  of  choice  follows  almost  as  a 
matter  of  course,  after  next  to  no  conflict.  With 
the  formation  of  an  organized  character,  choice  be- 
comes speedy.  It  follows  from  the  same  line  of  rea- 
soning that  it  becomes  more  and  more  intuitive  or 
spontaneous.  Where  no  character  has  been  formed 
moral  action  requires  considerable  hesitation  and  a 
process  of  deliberation.  Without  stopping  to  discuss 
whether  or  not  our  ideas  of  duty  are  intuitive,  it  is  ev- 
ident that  it  is  not  always  intuitive  just  what  is  our 
duty  in  a specific  case  where  there  is  a conflict  of 
claims  upon  us.  Just  in  the  degree,  however,  in  which 
acts,  whether  vicious  or  virtuous,  have  reacted  upon 
the  will,  and  have  been  organized  into  its  structure, 
does  the  will  act  spontaneously.  It  is  conceivable  that 
a child,  in  the  process  of  forming  a character,  may 
often  hesitate  long.  It  is  not  conceivable  that  a very 
good  or  a very  wicked  man  should ; that  is,  about  the 
nature  of  the  act;  there  may  be  hesitation  concerning 
results.  The  same  process  renders  choice  more  definite 
and  less  vague.  At  the  beginning  one  does  not  know 
just  what  he  is  choosing.  As  character  is  formed  the 
nature  of  the  motive  is  better  and  better  estimated. 

4.  Effective  Execution. — The  moral  act,  as  we  have 
seen,  does  not  depend  upon  its  character  for  its  execu- 
tion. The  will  to  execute  is  morally  its  execution. 
This  presupposes,  of  course,  that  there  be  a real  act  of 
choice,  and  that  there  are  no  “ mental  reservations.” 
Nothing  is  commoner  than  for  a man  to  make  up  his 


MORAL  CONTROL. 


415 


mind  in  a certain  way  upon  its  surface,  while  under- 
neath the  will  has  set  itself  in  an  opposite  direction. 
It  requires  a well-formed  character  for  truth  not  to  de- 
ceive one’s  self  in  this  way.  But  objectively  considered, 
the  execution  of  the  act  is  highly  important.  For  other 
men  there  is  no  way  of  judging  a motive  except  by  its 
result.  If  the  motive  is  thwarted  in  its  execution  the 
actor  does  not  feel  remorse,  but  he  cannot  help  feeling 
regret.  From  the  standpoint  of  the  world  the  impor- 
tant thing  is  to  get  the  right  thing  done,  and  no  man 
can  consider  himself  an  effective  power  whose  ability 
to  execute  his  intentions  does  not  bear  a commensurate 
ratio  to  his  intentions.  The  sole  condition  of  effective 
execution  is  an  organized  character,  and  for  two  rea- 
sons. 

(1.)  Character  constitutes  a reservoir  of  energy  which 
may  be  drawn  upon  to  bring  about  the  end  willed.  In 
character  there  are  conserved  the  results  of  all  previous 
acts.  Each  has  lent  some  of  its  own  strength  to  the 
will.  Character  is  multiplied  volition  ; it  is  will  which 
has  ceased  to  be  isolated,  and  which  has  concentrated 
itself.  It  is  will  which  is  no  longer  sporadic,  but  has 
turned  its  force  in  one  direction.  The  man  with  char- 
acter, whether  good  or  bad,  is  not  easily  daunted.  He 
does  not  recognize  obstacles.  Ilis  eye  is  upon  the  end, 
and  upon  that  alone.  Weakness  means  instability,  and 
instability  is  lack  of  character. 

(2.)  Another  reason  for  the  practical  efficiency  of 
character  is  suggested  by  Aristotle  when  he  says  that 
the  man  who  rejoices  in  abstinence  is  temperate;  the 
man  who  abstains  but  is  grieved  thereby  is  still  in- 
temperate. We  have  already  seen  that  the  force 
which  carries  out  any  choice  is  the  impulsive  ac- 


416 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


tion  of  feeling.  Intellect  proposes  the  end ; this  is 
chosen,  and  the  propulsive  tendency  of  feeling  realizes 
it.  Now  only  the  man  with  fixed  character  takes  a 
great  and,  what  is  more,  an  enduring  pleasure  in  the 
anticipation  of  a certain  end.  Only  the  man  of  truth- 
ful character  can  be  said  to  rejoice  in  the  truth  for  its 
own  sake.  Only  he,  therefore,  is  likely  to  have  that 
supply  of  propulsive  feeling  which  will  see  to  it  that 
the  truth  is  actually  told,  no  matter  what  the  difficulty. 
Love  is  the  only  motive  which  can  be  relied  upon  for 
efficient  and  sure  action  ; and  only  the  man  of  charac- 
ter has  fixed  love  of  a thing  for  its  own  sake;  and 
that  which  is  sought  for  anything  but  itself  is  not  a 
moral  end. 


Murray  ( op . cit .),  pp.  235-240;  Sully,  “Psychology,”  pp.  G49-680;  Rade- 
stock  (op.  cit.),  pp.  8 1— SG  ; Volkmann  (op.  cit.'),  vol.  ii.,  pp.  489-513;  Herbart 
(op.  cit.),  pt.  iii.,  ch.  v. ; Strumpell  (op.  cit.),  pp.  283-293;  Fortlage,  “Acht 
psychologische  Yortriige”  (essay  on  “Character”);  Marion,  “La  Solidaritd 
Morale,”  pp.  108-145 ; Hagemann,  “ Was  ist  Charakter?”  De  Guimps  (op.  cit .) 
pp.  431-443;  Perez,  “ L'Education,”  pp.  265-300;  .Toly,  “Notions  de  Peda- 
gogie,”  pp.  1G4-196;  Beneke,  “ Erziehungslehre,”  pp.  310-343;  Dittes, 
“Naturlehre  der  moralisclien  Erziehung;”  Wendt,  “Die  Willensbildung ;" 
Habel,  “ Entwickelungsgescliichte  des  Widens;”  Grube,  “Von  der  sittlicheu 
Bildung  der  Jugend;”  Wiese,  “Die  Bildung  des  Widens ;”  Had,  Princeton 
Review  for  1882,  articles  on  “Moral  Training  of  Children,”  and  “Education 
of  Will” 


CHAPTER  XXII. 


WILL  AS  THE  SOURCE  OF  IDEALS  AND  OF  THEIR 
REALIZATION. 

Will  is  Self. — We  have  now  finished  our  study  of 
the  various  factors  of  the  self.  It  is  now  necessary 
very  briefly  to  notice  their  relation  to  each  other.  The 
unity  of  the  self  is  the  will.  The  will  is  the  man,  psy- 
chologically speaking.  Knowledge  we  have  seen  to  be 
in  its  essence  a process  of  the  realization  of  the  univer- 
sal self-consciousness ; feeling  to  be  the  accompaniment 
of  self-realization  ; and  its  specific  quality  to  be  depen- 
dent upon  the  definite  form  of  self-realization  accom- 
plished. Will  we  have  just  seen  to  be  the  self  realiz- 
ing itself.  This  is  involved  throughout  in  physical  and 
prudential  control,  and  it  is  explicitly  developed  when 
we  study  moral  control.  Here  the  will  is  seen  to  be 
self-determination.  The  will,  in  short,  constitutes  the 
meaning  of  knowledge  and  of  feeling;  and  moral  will 
constitutes  the  meaning  of  will. 

Will , Knowledge , Feeling. — Knowledge  is  the  ob- 
jectification of  feeling  or  sensation  by  the  will,  in  the 
process  of  apperception.  Sensation  or  feeling  is  itself 
meaningless,  except  in  its  relation  to  sensuous  impulse, 
which  constitutes  the  raw  material  of  the  will.  Sensu- 
ous impulse  is  the  will  in  the  process  of  becoming.  It 
is  the  will  before  it  has  obtained  the  control  of  itself ; 
before  it  is  self-determined.  The  construction  of  knowl- 
edge out  of  sensuous  impulse,  or  out  of  sensation,  by 
18* 


418 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  apperceptive  process  is  simply  one  aspect  of  the 
will  obtaining  control  of  itself.  It  is  the  will  deter- 
mining itself  to  an  objective  and  universal  form.  The 
varieties  of  qualitative  feeling,  on  the  other  hand,  are 
the  accompaniments  of  the  self-determination  of  the 
will.  They  accompany  either  the  outgoing  action  of 
the  will  or  its  action  as  it  takes  some  objective  con- 
tent and  dissolves  it  in  the  medium  of  the  individual. 
Knowledge,  in  short,  is  the  objective  universal  aspect 
of  will;  feeling  is  its  subjective  individual  aspect. 
Will,  as  the  process  which  includes  and  unites  both,  is 
the  self. 

Twofold  Nature  of  Will. — There  is  involved  in  the 
will  and  hence  in  the  self  a twofold  mode  of  action. 
The  will  is  the  source,  the  origin  of  ideals,  and  also 
of  their  realization.  The  will  is  always  holding  it- 
self before  itself.  The  self  has  always  presented  to 
its  actual  condition  the  vague  ideal  of  a completely 
universal  self,  by  which  it  measures  itself  and  feels  its 
own  limitations.  The  self,  in  its  true  nature,  is  uni- 
versal and  objective.  The  actual  self  is  largely  par- 
ticular and  unrealized.  The  self  always  confronts  it- 
self, therefore,  with  the  conception  of  a universal  or 
completed  will  towards  which  it  must  strive.  What 
this  will  or  self  as  complete  is,  it  does  not  know.  It 
only  feels  that  there  is  such  a goal,  and  that  it  is  only 
as  it  attains  it  that  it  experiences  any  abiding  satisfac- 
tion ; that  is  to  sa}',  happiness.  This  will  or  self  which 
the  will  sets  before  itself  is  its  ideal. 

Function  of  the  Ideal  Will. — This  ideal  will  serves 
as  a spur  to  the  actual  self  to  realize  itself.  It  leads  to 
discontent  with  every  accomplished  result,  and  urges 
on  to  new  and  more  complete  action.  It  serves  also  to 


WILL  AS  THE  SOURCE  OF  IDEALS. 


419 


measure  all  accomplishments;  it  serves  as  the  criterion 
by  which  to  judge  them.  The  feeling  of  harmony, 
which  is  the  mind’s  ultimate  test  of  intellectual  truth, 
aesthetic  beauty,  and  moral  rightness,  is  simply  the  feel- 
ing of  the  accord  between  the  accomplished  act  and 
the  completed  activity  which  is  the  ideal. 

The  Realizing  Activity  of  Will. — But  the  will  does 
more  than  set  up  this  ideal  of  absolute  truth,  absolute 
beaut}’,  and  absolute  goodness.  The  will  is  the  activ- 
ity which  realizes  this  ideal  and  makes  it  a fact  of  rec- 
ognized validity  in  life.  It  gives  this  form,  its  con- 
tent ; it  specifies  it  and  makes  it  definite.  Intellect- 
ual life  consists  not  only  of  the  goal  of  truth  towards 
which  intelligence  is  striving,  but  also  of  truth  attained. 
./Esthetic  life  finds  its  motive  power  in  the  working 
within  it  of  an  ideal  of  beauty;  but  this  ideal  has  also 
worked  itself  out  in  some  degree,  and  created  specific 
beautiful  forms.  The  moral  life  has  its  motive  in  a 
perfect  will,  a will  absolutely  at  harmony  with  itself, 
and  this  ideal  has  manifested,  itself  in  social  institu- 
tions and  in  personal  character.  It  is  not  one  self  or 
will  which  is  the  ideal,  and  another  will  which  is  the 
source  of  its  attainment ; but  the  ideal  will  has  been 
a constant  motive  power,  which  has  energized  in  bring- 
ing forth  the  concrete  attainments  in  knowledge,  beau- 
ty, and  rightness. 

The  Moral  Ideal  in  Particular. — The  ethical  will 
brings  clearly  to  light  what  is  implicitly  contained,  in 
the  intellectual  and  emotional  processes.  We  have  in 
these  latter  the  feeling  of  perfect  or  completely  harmo- 
nized truth  and  beauty  as  constituting  the  reality  of 
the  psychical  life  ; but  we  do  not  have  the  conscious 
recognition  that  this  ideal  is  the  true  self  to  which 


420 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


the  actual  must  be  made  to  conform.  In  moral  will 
there  is  this  recognition  : the  good  self  or  will  is  felt 
to  be  absolutely  obligatory,  and  its  realization  not  a 
matter  of  advantage  or  even  of  mere  growth  or  de- 
velopment. It  is  a matter  of  rightness , for  the  coming 
short  of  which  there  is  the  feeling  of  guilt. 

We  also  see  the  closer  identification  in  the  ethical 
realm  of  the  will  as  ideal  and  the  will  as  realizing 
power  in  the  fact  that  here  motive  and  act  are  one. 
The  will  to  know  the  truth  or  to  create  beauty  does 
not  constitute  the  willed  result.  There  is  a gap  be- 
tween the  motive  and  the  attained  end.  The  realiza- 
tion of  the  motive  depends  upon  conditions  more  or 
less  external.  But  in  ethical  matters  it  is  not  so.  As 
we  have  repeatedly  noticed,  the  choice  of  the  motive 
constitutes,  for  ethical  purposes,  the  attainment  of  the 
end.  The  will  to  be  good  is  the  good.  In  moral  will, 
therefore,  the  ideal  will  is  recognized  as  the  ground  of 
the  actual  self.  The  obligation  of  the  perfect  upon  the 
actual  imperfect  self  is  the  conscious  manifestation  of 
this  fact.  Furthermore,  the  unity  of  the  ideal  will  as 
the  goal,  with  the  will  which  reaches  this  goal,  the  unity 
involved  in  all  volition,  is  explicitly  developed.  Moral 
will  makes  definite  and  clear  the  meaning  of  intellect- 
ual and  aesthetic  action.  Were  it  not  for  what  we  find 
manifested  in  moral  will,  the  action  of  the  intellect  in 
searching  for  truth,  and  the  creative  activity  of  the  aes- 
thetic imagination,  would  remain  ultimately  incompre- 
hensible. 

Remaining  Dualism  in  the  Moral  Will. — The  moral 
will,  however,  does  not  entirely  overcome  that  dualism 
between  the  actual  and  the  ideal  selves  which  is  involved 
in  the  other  two  spheres  of  action.  The  moral  will  is 


WILL  AS  THE  SOURCE  OF  IDEALS. 


421 


incomplete  or  partial  in  its  action.  The  acting  from  a 
good  motive  in  a given  case  constitutes  being  good  in 
that  case.  This  choice  sufficiently  repeated  results  in 
the  formation  of  a good  character.  Yet  this  character 
never  gets  so  formed  that  it  can  dispense  with  the  re- 
peated act  of  choice  whenever  there  is  conflict  of  good 
and  bad  desires.  The  choice  may  grow  more  rapid, 
accurate,  and  intuitive,  but  the  act  of  choice  remains 
necessary.  To  say  that  it  remains  necessary  is  to  say 
that  the  will  as  ideal  and  the  will  as  actual  have  not 
been  truly  unified.  Were  they  once  truly  unified  there 
would  be  no  need  of  the  repetition  of  the  act  of  their 
identification.  Each  act  would  flow  naturally  and  spon- 
taneously from  their  complete  unity. 

Religious  Will. — Moral  action,  in  short,  is  particular 
in  its  nature.  It  may  cover  a multitude  of  cases,  but 
it  is  not  universal  in  itself.  It  is  religious  will  which 
performs  the  act  of  identification  once  for  all.  The 
will,  as  religious,  declares  that  the  perfect  ideal  will  is 
the  only  reality ; it  declares  that  it  is  the  only  reality 
in  the  universe,  and  that  it  is  the  only  reality  in  the 
individual  life.  It  makes  it  a motive,  once  for  all,  of 
action  ; and  not  of  this  or  that  action,  but  of  life,  and 
of  life  generically  and  absolutely.  Religious  will  de- 
clares that  the  perfect  will  is  the  only  source  of  activ- 
ity and  of  reality,  and  that  it  is  in  itself  perfect  activity 
and  perfect  reality.  It  is  the  completely  self-deter- 
mined. In  it  realization  and  the  ideal  are  one.  There 
is  no  longer  any  dualism  between  the  will  as  it  is  and 
the  will  as  it  ought  to  be. 

Religious  Action. — As  religious  will  makes  this  dec- 
laration, so  religious  action  is  the  continuous  appropri- 
ation of  the  truth  asserted  by  it.  The  religious  will 


422 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


declares  that  God,  as  the  perfect  Personality  or  Will,  is 
the  only  Reality,  and  the  Source  of  all  activity.  It  is 
therefore  the  source  of  all  activity  of  the  individual 
personality.  The  Perfect  Will  is  the  motive,  source, 
and  the  realization  of  the  life  of  the  individual.  He 
has  renounced  his  own  particular  life  as  an  unreality ; 
he  has  asserted  that  the  sole  reality  is  the  Universal 
Will,  and  in  that  reality  all  his  actions  take  place.  In 
other  words,  the  source  of  his  concrete  actions  is  no 
longer  the  will  that  the  ideal  and  actual  ought  to  he  one, 
and  that  in  this  specific  case  the}'  shall  be,  but  it  is  the 
will  that  they  are  one  ; and  this  specific  case,  as  well  as 
all  others,  is  the  manifestation  of  this  unity.  In  short, 
while  moral  action  is  action  directed  to  render  the  act- 
ual conformable  to  the  ideal,  religious  action  is  action 
directed  to  the  embodiment  of  the  ideal  in  the  actual. 

Faith. — This  will  that  the  real  and  the  perfect  Will 
or  Personality  are  one  constitutes  the  essence  of  the 
religious  act  known  as  faith.  It  transcends  knowl- 
edge, for  knowledge,  while  always  the  realization  of  a 
complete  self,  is  never  its  complete  realization.  There 
is  always  a chasm  between  actual  knowledge  and  abso- 
lute truth.  There  can  be  no  knowledge  beyond  the 
ground  that  knowledge  actually  covers.  There  can- 
not be  knowledge  that  the  true  reality  for  the  indi- 
vidual self  is  the  universal  self,  for  knowledge  has  not 
in  the  individual  compassed  the  universal.  But  this 
will  or  faith,  while  transcending  knowledge,  is  yet  im- 
plied in  all  knowledge.  The  motive  to  knowledge  and 
the  energy  of  its  realization  is  the  belief  that  there  is 
truth,  and  that  every  act  of  intellect,  legitimately  per- 
formed, leads  to  truth.  In  knowledge  there  is  no  ulti- 
mate justification  for  this  belief.  It  finds  its  validity 


■WILL  AS  THE  SOURCE  OF  IDEALS. 


423 


and  the  revelation  of  its  meaning  only  in  the  will  that 
the  real  and  the  ideal  of  truth  are  one  in  a perfect  per- 
sonality— God.  This  act  of  faith  also  precedes  and 
transcends  feeling.  There  is,  in  the  feeling  of  harmony , 
the  feeling  of  unity,  but  this  feeling  accompanies  will. 
It  is  the  internal  side  of  the  universal  or  objective 
unity  realized  through  the  will.  Without  this  act  of 
will,  all  feeling  is  that  of  discord,  of  incongruence. 

Summary. — We  find  the  unity  of  the  psychical  proc- 
esses already  studied,  and  therefore  their  ultimate  ex- 
planation, in  the  fact  that  man  is  a self;  that  the  es- 
sence of  self  is  the  self-determining  activity  of  will; 
that  this  will  is  an  objectifying  activity,  and  that,  in 
objectifying  itself,  it  renders  itself  universal.  The  re- 
sult of  this  activity  is  knowledge.  The  objectified  will 
is  science ; the  objectifying  activity  is  the  intellect. 
This  will  or  activity  also  renders  an  account  to  itself 
of  its  own  doings.  It  is  internal  to  itself.  The  objec- 
tive universal  result  is  at  one  and  the  same  time  exist- 
ent in  the  medium  of  the  individual’s  consciousness. 
This  subjective  aspect  of  the  activity  is  feeling.  As 
expressing  the  furtherance  or  hinderance  of  the  activ- 
ity, it  is  pleasure  or  pain  ; as  an  accompaniment  of  an 
actual  realization,  it  possesses  content  and  is  qualitative. 

The  activity  which  is  both  subjective  and  objective, 
which  unites  the  individual  and  the  universe,  which 
finds  its  motive  in  feeling  and  its  result  in  knowledge, 
and  at  the  same  time  changes  this  known  object  into 
the  felt  subject  is  the  will,  the  unity  of  psychical  life. 
But  the  activity  of  the  will  is  not  exhausted  in  these 
realizations  of  itself  through  knowledge  and  feeling; 
the  will  is  universal  in  its  nature,  and  therefore  must 
always  hold  before  itself  its  own  universal  nature. 


424: 


PSYCHOLOGY. 


This  universal  native  of  •will  with  which  the  will 
confronts  itself  constitutes  what  we  call  ideals.  Ac- 
cording as  it  takes  the  nature  of  a universal  harmony 
of  truths  it  is  the  intellectual  ideal ; as  the  universal 
harmony  of  feelings,  it  is  the  aesthetic;  as  the  univer- 
sal harmony  of  volitions,  it  is  the  moral. 

Moral  will  is  the  conscious  realization  by  man  that 
the  real  and  the  ideal  ought  to  be  one,  and  the  result- 
ing attempt  to  make  them  one  in  specific  acts  and  in 
the  formation  of  character.  Religious  will  is  conscious 
realization  that  they  are  one  because  man  is  a self-de- 
termining power.  It  is  the  realization  that  a perfect 
will  is  reality.  It  is  the  realization  of  freedom  through 
the  realization  of  the  union  of  finite  and  the  infinite 
Personality.  It  is  only  when  we  recognize  this  latter 
activity  of  will  that  we  are  able  really  to  comprehend 
the  previous  forms  of  activity.  Without  it  there  re- 
mains a contradiction  in  them.  Without  it  knowledge 
is  only  of  that  which  has  been  individually  objectified  ; 
the  universal  which  is  its  goal  remains  a blind  pos- 
tulate, impossible  to  account  for.  Without  it  feeling 
can  be  only  dissatisfaction,  for  it  must  reveal  discord 
between  what  is  and  what  is  felt  after,  its  goal  of  hap- 
piness. With  it  all  psychical  life  may  be  indifferently 
described  as  the  progressive  realization  by  the  will  of 
its  ideal  self,  or  as  the  progressive  idealization  of  the 
actual  through  the  ultimate,  absolute  reality.  In  either 
case  is  it  progressive  appropriation  of  that  self  in  which 
real  and  ideal  are  one;  in  which  truth,  happiness,  and 
rightness  are  united  in  one  Personality. 


APPENDIX  A. 


Sence  every  psychological  treatise  is  influenced  largely  by  its 
philosophical  basis,  a brief  characterization  of  the  standpoint  of 
the  principal  writers  referred  to  in  the  body  of  the  work  will 
not  be  amiss.  Brown,  Hamilton,  and  McCosh  belong,  of  course, 
to  the  Scotch  school.  With  the  same  school,  but  influenced 
more  by  German  philosophy,  Porter  may  be  classed.  Murray 
has  connections  with  the  same  school,  but  his  point  of  view 
is  rather  that  of  the  Post -Kantian  movement.  Mill  is  of  the 
traditional  English  (or  associational)  line.  Of  the  same  school 
are  Lewes,  but  affected  by  the  physiological  development  of 
the  sciences,  and  Spencer,  influenced  in  the  same  way  and 
also  by  the  theory  of  evolution.  Lewes  also  shows  the  influ- 
ence of  the  German  “ Volkerpsvchologie”  school.  Sully  has 
his  standpoint  fixed  by  the  same  fundamental  metaphysical 
principles,  but  is  influenced  largely  by  the  later  experimental 
treatment  of  the  science.  Bain  has  given  the  most  thorough 
and  detailed  exposition  of  the  special  questions  of  psychology 
to  be  found  in  English  from  the  standpoint  of  the  English 
school  modified  by  physiological  considerations.  In  Germany 
Herbart’s  influence  has  been,  upon  the  whole,  dominant  in  psy- 
chology, and  Volkmann,  Waitz,  Strumpell,  Schilling,  Glogau, 
Drobiscli  all  build  upon  his  foundation  in  a more  or  less  inde- 
pendent way.  Steinthal  and  Lazarus  cannot  be  classed  as  ILer- 
bartians,  but  they  reflect  more  of  Herbart,  perhaps,  than  of  any 
other  one  man.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Morell  in  English, 
while  Ward  shows  decided  traces  of  his  influence.  Lotze  is 
difficult  to  class,  having,  upon  the  whole,  an  independent  basis ; 
he  is  indebted  to  Kant  and  to  Herbart  in  about  equal  measures, 
while  he  is  everywhere  influenced  by  the  physiological  aspects 
of  the  science.  Much  the  same  may  be  said  of  Ulrici,  although 
the  latter  was  not  an  independent  investigator  in  experimental 
psychology.  Other  Herbartians  not  referred  to  in  the  preceding 


42  G 


APPENDIX. 


pages  are  Lindner,  Stoy,  and  Ballauf.  Erdmann,  Rosenkranz, 
and  Michelet  are  all  Hegelians,  as  is  George,  upon  a more  inde- 
pendent basis.  Rosenkranz  has  written  upon  pedagogy  from 
this  standpoint,  and  Thaulow’s  “ Hegel’s  Ansichten  iiber  Erzie- 
liung  und  Unterricht”  belongs  here.  Ostermann’s  “Padago- 
gische  Psychologie  ” follows  Lotze.  Beneke,  Dittes,  Schrader, 
and  Kern  reflect  Herbart  iu  their  educational  treatises.  Stoy’s 
“Encyclopadie  der  Padagogik”  contains  a bibliography,  as  do 
also  the  works  of  Frohlich  and  Joly,  referred  to  in  the  body  of 
this  work.  Every  educationalist  is  acquainted,  of  course,  with 
Diesterweg’s  “ Wegweiser,”  with  its  valuable  references. 


APPENDIX  B. 

We  add  the  following  references  upon  psycho-physics : Fech- 
ner,  “Elemente  der  Psychophysik,”  “In  Sachen  der  Psychophy- 
sik,”  and  “ Revision  der  Hauptpunkte  der  Psychophysik Mul- 
ler, “ Zur  Grundlegung  der  Psychophysik;”  F.  A.  Muller,  “Das 
Axiom  der  Psychophysik  Delboeuf,  “ Elements  de  Psychophy- 
sique ; Ribot,  ch.  vii.  of  “ Contemporary  German  Psychology 
“ Philosophische  Studien,”  vol.  i.,  p.  566,  vol.  ii.,  p.  1,  and  p.  655 ; 
Ward,  in  Mind , vol.  i.,  p.  452  ; Danger.  “ Die  Grundlagen  der  Psy- 
chophysik.” 

Upon  comparative  psychology  the  following  works  may  be 
consulted : Romanes,  “ Animal  Intelligence  ” and  “ Mental  Evo- 
lution ;”  Lubbock,  “ Ants,  Bees,  and  Wasps;”  Lindsay,  “Mind  in 
Lower  Animals;”  Houzeau,  “Etude  sur  les  Facultes  Mentales 
des  Animaux ;”  Blanchard,  “Les  Metamorphoses,  les  Moeurs  et 
les  Instincts  des  Insectes ;”  Bourdon  de  Monte,  “ L’Homme  et  les 
Animaux;”  FourniS,  “La  Bete  et  l’Homme ;”  Joly,  “Psychologie 
Comparee,”  and  “ L’Homme  et  l’Animal ;”  Espinas,  “ Des  So- 
cigtes  Animales;”  Carus,  “ Vergleichende  Psychologie;”  Bastian, 
“ Beitriige  zur  vergleichende  Psychologie ;”  and  Perty,  Flugel, 
and  Gleisberg  upon  “ Das  Seelenleben  der  Thiere.” 

Upon  genetic  psychology  see  : Preyer,  “ Die  Seele  des  Kindes ;” 
Perez,  “First  Three  Years  of  Childhood,”  and  “ La  Psychologie 


APPENDIX. 


427 


de  l'Enfant;”  Kussmaul,  “ Untersuchungen  iiber  das  Seelenleben 
des  neugeborenen  Menschen Egger,  “ Sur  le  Developpement 
de  l’lutelligenee  efc  du  Langage Lobiscb,  “ Die  Seele  des 
Kindes Scliultze,  “ Die  Spraelie  des  Kindes Taine,  in  Revue 
Philosophique , for  Jan.,  1S76  ; Darwin,  in  Mind , vol.  ii.,  p.  285  IF. ; 
Pollock,  in  Mind  for  July,  1S78;  Genzmer,  “Die  Sinneswahr- 
nehmungen  des  neugeborenen  Menschen.” 


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